I encouraged my father to reconcile with Uncle Tom and Cousin Emily. Daddy had ostracized my uncle and cousin because of their incestuous relationship. It took far more than words to persuade Daddy to mend fences but the important thing is that they are speaking to one another again. And Daddy and I have become even closer as a result. We all just had a simply wonderful time up at Uncle Tom's cabin. The latest dilemma in my life had just been resolved more than favorably.
Feeling better about myself, I decided the time was now right to visit my doctor lover Mark in San Francisco. He had again become the focus of my every thought. I kept dreaming of the love we had shared so intensely but so briefly after he rescued me from the accident and the freezing cold. That was now more than a year ago. Something had subtly changed in our long-distance relationship lately but I couldn't put my finger on it. I blamed it on me. Being drugged and sexually victimized by that gang of black football players had affected me greatly.
I met a real character on the flight to San Francisco. Henry was eighty-eight and told me he had a terminal illness and only a few months to live. Very tall and distinguished looking with white hair and a matching neatly trimmed beard. He wore a very expensive charcoal gray suit with a blue button-down shirt and black tie with some sort of emblem on it. I tried to visualize what he might have looked like when he was my age. Very handsome I imagined. Henry had no family and had chosen to spend his last days in San Francisco, the city of his youth. I could tell he was very lonely.
Henry entertained me with stories about the famous people he had known during his long life. Most of them had passed away but he made them come alive to me. He had known the late Ruth Handler, co-founder of Mattel and creator of the Barbie doll. I thought about telling him about my cousin Emily and how we went from playing with Barbie to playing with each other. Yes, Emily had gone from touching Barbie's pussy to fondling mine. And then I did the same to her. Emily and I laughed about it when we rekindled our relationship at Uncle Tom's cabin. But I decided I didn't know Henry well enough yet to talk dirty, and besides, he looked like the sort that might spank me for being a bad girl if only he were a little younger.
Sixty some years ago Henry had a brief career in the major leagues. He roomed for a time with Enos Slaughter, a Hall of Fame player and legendary hell-raiser. But World War II and a severe bullet wound to his knee from a Nazi pistol ended that. Henry related he was being tortured at the time. Another of his friends who recently passed away was Abba Eban, the diplomat who persuaded the United Nations to approve the creation of a Jewish state in 1948. Eban got Henry involved in the business of espionage and counter-intelligence. Later he became a soldier of fortune and then a private detective.
"Tell me about some of your favorite cases and people," I pleaded.
Most of his private dick work, Henry joked, occurred in and around L.A., where the real action was. He had partied and smoked a few joints with Robert Mitchum a week before he got busted with actress Lila Leeds and a few others on marijuana charges in 1948. He did some investigative work for Lana Turner in 1958 that helped get her fourteen-year-old daughter Cheryl Crane off the hook for stabbing gangster Johnny Stompanato to death with a kitchen knife. Justifiable homicide so ruled the jury in twenty minutes.
Henry had known Joe DiMaggio quite well. They got together whenever Henry came to San Francisco. Joe introduced him to Marilyn Monroe. Henry's eyes brightened as he talked of her. Then Henry shocked me with his tale that the Kennedy's had Marilyn killed to silence her and that DiMaggio knew who had President Kennedy assassinated and it wasn't Lee Harvey Oswald, the mafia, Castro, the CIA, or the FBI. DiMaggio knew because he had hired Henry to do an unofficial clandestine investigation into the deaths of Monroe and Kennedy to satisfy his own doubts. But Henry wouldn't tell me much more, other than the fatal dose of Nembutal that killed Marilyn in 1962 had not been willingly ingested by her but administered by enema by another.
I had no reason not to believe him. But this sounded too incredulous. My female intuition usually lets me know when a man is trying to deceive me. Unfortunately, I don't always pay attention to it. Henry had no reason to impress me with untruths. I mean, it's not like he wanted to seduce me or anything.
As the plane landed Henry pulled out his wallet. "Here, my dear, I want you to have this." He handed me ten crisp one-hundred dollar bills.
"Huh? "What is... uh... this... uh... for?" I stuttered in surprise.
"I have more money than I can possibly spend, especially since I won't be around much longer. No family. Most of my friends are dead. I have thoroughly enjoyed the brief time we have spent together talking, Annie. With this money I would like you to buy yourself a lovely new dress and allow me the great honor of taking you to dinner during your stay in San Francisco. At your convenience of course. I know a fabulous French cuisine establishment."
"I'd like that, Henry. Mark, the man I told you about, will be working some of the time so I'm sure we can get together for dinner. I just hope you don't make Mark jealous, you cute old coot! And I definitely want to hear more of your wild and crazy stories." I laughed gaily and gave Henry a little peck on the cheek and squeeze as we departed the plane at San Francisco International Airport.
Mark met me at the airport and we embraced and kissed. But it just wasn't the same. The words he spoke were the right ones but something just didn't ring true.
"Annie, I missed you so much! It's been so long since we held each other. I love you, my darling." I detected just a slight trace of insincerity.
Once in Mark's car, I attacked him. "Mark, find the first somewhat secluded spot and park. Unless you want me to give you a blow job while you're driving. There is a certain amount of thrill to that possibility but I don't want to cause an accident."
"Annie, we need to talk about the sex," Mark cautioned. "I think we should remain celibate with respect to each other until we are married."
"Married? You haven't proposed to me. Where does this new found morality come from? Mark, I want you in my mouth. Right now. And I want you in my pussy soon. It's all I've been thinking about."
"What we did that time happened, Annie, we can't change that. I don't want to change it. But I must insist that a repeat performance wait until we are husband and wife if that is where we are headed with our relationship. No, I have not proposed to you... yet. I have a little present for you. Not a ring... yet... but something I hope you'll like." Mark put the chain with the heart pendant around my neck. "It belonged to my grandmother."
"It's beautiful, Mark. I love it! It looks expensive. Thank you so very much. I have a present for you, too. It's between my legs. I want it to be yours forever, my love."
"All in due time, Annie."
Very disappointed, I insisted, "Tell me about this change in your perspective regarding pre-marital sexual relations, Mark."
"Let's just say I have seen the light."
"I want to see the lights too. While you are making love to me and hitting my G-spot just right like you did before. Please, Mark?"
"No, Annie. We must wait." I sulked and pouted and remained quiet all the way to Mark's apartment.
"Nice place," I finally spoke miserably as we entered.
"Yes, I like it. Annie, I have to work the second shift in the ER at the hospital and must leave soon. Here's a key. I'll meet you back here at midnight. My friend Robert is going to entertain you in my absence. Take you sightseeing. Dinner. Whatever you would like to do."
"What I would like, Mark, is for you to make love to me."
"I think you already said that, Annie. We'll talk about it more when we meet later. Okay?"
"I guess I don't have much choice. I'm not real crazy about being led around the city by a stranger." I moved close to Mark and reached for his zipper. "You didn't become a eunuch did you? Let me have a look, doctor. I want to make sure you still have the package. Let me be your own personal head nurse." I unzipped him.
Mark pulled away. "What part of 'no' don't you understand, Annie? And Robert is no stranger. He's been one of my best friends for years. And you don't have to worry about him hitting on you. He's gay."
"Gay? Wonderful. I have a date with a faggot."
"Annie! Shame on you!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mark. I'm just totally frustrated by these new developments."
"It will be for the best, Annie. You'll see."
"I sure hope so but I fucking doubt it."
"Annie! You know I don't like to hear that kind of language from you."
"Sorry." I thought, what is your fucking problem? Mark was pissing me off. My red hair would have stood on end if it wasn't so curly.
"Here's Robert now." Mark introduced us. Robert began to irritate me right from the beginning. He had this nasal high-pitched voice that reminded me of fingernails scraping on a chalk board. Mark and I confirmed that we would rendezvous back at the apartment about midnight. He left for work and I reluctantly left with Robert.
Robert informed me he worked as a dress designer. That figured. But it was the first thing he said that interested me much. I asked him to take me to his favorite boutiques. I wanted to spend that thousand dollars Henry had given me on a new dress. Clothes seem to be the only thing that takes my mind off sex.
.... There is more of this story ...