Chapter 44: Sex and the City

January 10, 1992, Chicago, Illinois

“I’m curious why you said what you did at the diner.”

“Which thing?” Crystal asked.

“About me having the need to bed every woman who comes along. Except you.”

“Tell me I’m wrong. You told me you had, how did you put it, ‘freedom’. It was clear you wanted my roomie, and if I hadn’t become upset, you probably would have gone for it. So, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing! Well, except that I don’t think I’m the kind of guy you’re looking for.”

“And how do you know that?” Crystal demanded. “Maybe I feel the need to bed every guy who comes along!”

I chuckled, “You implied a certain level of innocence.”

“What? The comment about never tasting it? Just because I never let a guy put his thing in my mouth doesn’t mean I’m a nun!”

“And you’ve decided now that it’s a taste you want to acquire?” I smirked.

“After eating fish eggs and ground duck liver? Could it be worse?”

“Hmm. It probably is worse than pâté, but better than caviar.”

“What?!” she gasped, her eyes flying wide. “You’re bi?”

“Oh HELL no!” I laughed. “But expecting a girl to do that and not being willing to kiss her afterwards is pretty low in my book. And making her douche, or whatever, between rounds so you can orally pleasure her kind of messes up the flow of things.”

“I don’t even know what to say!”

“As I said with the caviar and the pâté at Alex’s place, you have to try them before you knock them. When I first tried bourbon I didn’t particularly like it. Now it’s my regular drink. I didn’t like Scotch, either, but now it’s fine. I prefer the Kentucky and Tennessee whiskies to the Scottish. The Irish ones are in between.”

“You just went from sex to whisky as if they’re equivalent.”

I chuckled, “I was simply drawing a parallel to something else in my life.”

“You like the taste?”

“Of whisky? Absolutely!” I smirked.

“No you dolt!” Crystal laughed. “You know what I mean!”

“Of females? Yes, I love it. Of the other thing? Neutral. I tolerate it, I suppose is the best way to say it.”

“You actually LIKE that? I always thought it was gross for a guy to do that.”

“Then I am absolutely the wrong guy for you. We are coming from two VERY different perspectives. And not just on this specific thing, on just about everything to do with it.”

“So you would pass it up if I didn’t want to do those things?”

“I’d pass it up because our attitudes are different. I’m sure there are guys out there who agree with you, and who can make a commitment as well. You don’t strike me as the sleep-around type. And you certainly don’t strike me as someone who would be much fun. At least not for me.”

“You are an asshole!” she growled angrily.

“For being honest? These are the kinds of conversations you have before you get close to a bed. Anything else is asking for all kinds of trouble.”

“You talk about stuff like this with girls before you bed them?”

“Contrary to the picture I think you have in your mind, I do not pick up girls at parties and bed them without a thought. It happens on occasion, but when it does, it’s VERY clear that the other person is on the same page. If not, then I put it off. Not to mention there are conditions.”

“You ARE an asshole! You put conditions on sex?”

“Take a chill pill!” I replied, exasperated. “Listen to me instead of reacting, please. Yes. One condition is a recent STD test. My wife, the doctor, won’t even contemplate giving permission without one. And she’s right. That’s like playing Russian roulette with my Beretta!”

“Huh?”

I chuckled, “How did you grow up in Kansas without knowing about guns?”

“Shotguns.”

“But you know a revolver has chambers and you load a single bullet in and spin it?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“My Beretta is a semi-auto pistol. That means if a round is in the chamber it fires every time.”

“Ah, OK. Sorry, I just didn’t know what you meant by Beretta. The only thing I know is the Chevy.”

“My fault for not saying ‘semi-auto’ or something like that instead of a brand name. But you see the point? It’s suicide. I have friends who are HIV positive, one of whom has serious health problems. I guess you would say he has AIDS.”

“Would say?”

“AIDS isn’t really a thing. HIV causes a suppressed immune system which leads to a whole class of diseases that mostly only occur in patients with HIV. The Press still uses AIDS and HIV interchangeably, and doesn’t really distinguish between the various health problems that different people have from opportunistic diseases. But forget it. I’m married to a doctor.”

“And your other conditions?”

“In the past, verified birth control and complete trust in the girl, or the requirement to use a rubber. And it was my wives who had to trust the girl. But after the vasectomy, that’s not really a concern at this point. Of course, if the girl doesn’t trust that I had one, then we could use a condom.”

“And?”

“Generally speaking, and this usually applies, one or two opportunities. No ongoing relationships.”

“And you’ve found that many girls who go along with this insanity?”

“Yes. As I said, I don’t think I’m the guy for you.”

“And if I agreed to these conditions? And told you I wanted it?”

“I’m not sure I’d believe you. It doesn’t fit everything you’ve said and done, which would give me serious pause.”

“But if Mitsuko said SHE wanted to go to bed with you, you would?”

“If we had the proper communication. Remember, too, the STD test is non-negotiable.”

“But you wouldn’t with me?” Crystal asked in a voice that showed she was both angry and offended.

“Not based on what I’ve heard from you, no. And it has nothing to do with you not being attractive. You are. You’re cute, and that dress showed me you have a nice body. But we’re not compatible. I just don’t think it would be much fun.”

“I AM fun!” Crystal protested.

“Yes, as a friend. As a date. Let me ask you this. How do you have sex?”

“The normal way. You kiss, he gets on top and does it.”

“And you have an orgasm?”

“Sometimes.”

“And that’s it? That’s sex?”

“Duh! Yes!”

I shook my head, “No. Not even close. Look, if that makes you happy, I’m cool with that. But that’s not sex in my mind. I mean, yes, it qualifies, barely, as sex, but that’s not enough.”

“Barely? Either it is or it isn’t!”

“Go back to Kansas, Dorothy. You can’t be Vesper to my James Bond.”

“Why are you being such a jerk about this?”

“You mean why am I being honest? Because anything else results in frustration or disappointment or even anger.”

“So you wouldn’t do it with me unless I agreed to do those things?”

“We’re not negotiating, Crystal,” I sighed. “You’ve made it clear what you think and I’ve told you what I think. There’s a gulf a mile wide between us. I suspect I’ve done things you haven’t even considered as possible or could even imagine. Find a different guy.”

“Is this your ‘hard to get’ personality?”

“No, this is me warning you off from a potential disaster.”

“But you’ll take me out again?”

“Sure. Why not? I enjoy talking to you. This conversation has been a bit rough, I realize. But we had fun the other night when sex was off the menu.”

“You confuse the heck out of me! You flirt. You take me on dates. You talk about sex. But you aren’t trying to get me into bed.”

“Correct.”

“And you aren’t just playing hard to get? Pretending?”

“Nope.”

“Weird. May I ask one favor?”

“I suppose.”

“Dress like Bond again. That was fun.”

“Deal. My schedule is a mess, like I said. It’ll probably be a couple of weeks. I’ll find a nice place for us to go.”

“Thanks.”

We finished our lunch and I headed back to the office. Just after 1:30pm, Kimmy told me that she’d set up the meeting for 7:00am on Monday, which was the only time she could get everyone before Thursday. I thanked her and then called Doctor Mercer’s office to cancel my Monday appointment. She wasn’t available, but the receptionist made the notation and said Doctor Mercer would call if there were any issues.

About an hour later, Kimmy brought the signed contract from Dante, and an envelope marked with my name. I counter-signed the contract and asked her to send back one of the two copies to Dante. I opened the envelope and laughed. It was a check for $10,000 with a note that said ‘Here you go, asshole!’. I’d expected nothing less from Dante. He’d met the minimum I’d stated, which also was exactly what I’d expected from Dante. I got up and motioned to Jeri. She followed me to the conference room.

“Here’s a donation to the Foundation to help support the Center,” I chuckled, handing it to her.

“You got this? From Dante Puccini? No way!”

“Hey, I take my membership on the Board seriously. I also take pushing Dante around seriously.”

“Damn, what happened to you?” Jeri asked.

“That’s the question everyone keeps asking. I had a ‘Damascus Road’ moment on Saturday. This is the new me. And YOU had a lot to do with it.”

“Me?”

“That brief talk about talking to the Press. Plus all the stuff that came before it. You know, the real you coming out of your shell.”

“Who did you fuck?” she laughed.

“Nobody,” I laughed. “In fact, part of it was NOT fucking someone. It’s a long story.”

“You’ll have to tell me sometime. Thanks for the check!”

“You’re welcome.”

I realized that my new attitude and outlook were actually enjoyable. Being forceful and taking charge felt good. But I had to keep watch so as not to let it go to my head and turn me into Dante. He was the negative example to keep me honest. Not that my children wouldn’t do their level best to cut me down. Well, all of them except Birgit. She’d defend me no matter what happened. Jesse and Matthew, on the other hand, were simply biding their time until they could manage to dethrone the king. The secret I’d never share with them was that I was looking forward to that day as much as they were.

That evening, I had another date with Gina. We met after dinner at the Woodlawn tap. She with her bottomless glass of white wine, and me with my bourbon.

“Gina, how do girls decide which guys they’re going to sleep with? Or if they’re going to sleep with a guy or not?”

“I think it depends on the girl. I can tell you what I think, but I’m not sure it’s valid for all women. I could ask you the same question.”

I chuckled, “I think for a good number of guys, especially in college and High School, the criteria are female and breathing!”

“I would hope you would grow out of that at some point.”

“I think they do eventually, but some don’t. Can we discuss my question before you take me to task for bedding every woman in sight.”

“Not every woman, Mr. Doctor Adams.”

“You know what I meant, Doc.”

“Sorry, I guess even joking about not doing it is fraught with problems. So, back to your question. I think I’ll just tell you about my experiences. I already told you in sort of a general way, but now I’ll give some details. What the hell? You don’t seem like one to judge.”

She took a long drink from her glass of wine, then continued.

“I was fifteen my first time, and I was in love; or I thought I was. He was seventeen and gorgeous and a rebel and all those things my parents hated. Maybe that was part of it, too. We’d been dating for about five months, and one of the things we did was ride horses at my uncle’s farm. One day, we got caught in a rainstorm. We stopped at an outbuilding on the ranch to dry off. Well, one thing led to another, and I decided that was as good a day as any to give in to what I knew he wanted.”

“Give in? It wasn’t something you wanted?”

“I was scared. More out of ignorance than anything. But I loved him so I let him. And it was beautiful. Not the greatest physical experience, but at the time, I was so in love that it just made it perfect. And from that point on, our relationship went straight to hell. Once you cross that line you can’t go back. It became about finding times and places we could do it. He became obsessed and I certainly liked it well enough to want to keep doing it. But at some point, we stopped talking and doing other stuff. Fortunately, I guess I can say now, he left for college and I was free.

“Well, not quite that quickly, but we broke up because he was away and missed his regular sex. He never said it quite that way, just that he had needs that weren’t being met. I know NOW, being almost 30, those are code words for a guy wanting to get laid. I didn’t think we had much of a relationship, so I agreed we should break up. That was pretty much the last time I heard from him, though when he was home the next summer he called and asked me to go horseback riding. I knew what he wanted and turned him down.

“But that’s skipping ahead. A few months after he left I went to Homecoming with a guy who seemed fairly nice. He put the moves on me and I liked him enough that I decided that because I wasn’t a virgin, it didn’t really matter. That was a huge mistake. It sucked. I won’t go into detail, but it was horrible. He asked me out again but I told him to forget it. I realized I’d made a huge mistake and was determined not to do it again.”

“I think I understand both of those. So you became more discriminating at that point?”

“I did. For the rest of High School I only had two other lovers. Both for different reasons. For my Junior Prom I didn’t have a date, and neither did my best guy friend. We decided to go together and at the end of the dance, I offered to have sex with him. A reward, I guess, for being a really nice guy and showing me a good time. We went back to his house and made love in his bed. It was probably the best sex I’ve ever had. Neither of us had anything to prove and we didn’t have any entanglements at all. Just a few hours of fun exploration and making each other feel really good. That was the night I learned what orgasms were SUPPOSED to be like.

“When it was over he took me home, and I was walking on air. But he was my friend, and I gently rebuffed any attempts to date or start something romantic. That was probably the biggest mistake of my life. With hindsight, I missed the perfect guy, right under my nose. He got pretty depressed, but he found a girlfriend and we started drifting apart. The last time I saw him was at graduation. I heard, through a mutual friend, that he’s happily married with two wonderful kids.”

She sighed deeply, and was silent for a moment. I just sipped my bourbon and called for a refill on her wine glass. She sipped some and then continued.

“Sorry. Anyway, the first day of my Senior year, I met this guy who had just transferred into the area. We hit it off and became a couple. I made that poor boy wait until a graduation party at the lake near our school. I still don’t know why I waited so long. We had what I guess you would call a torrid affair over the summer before we went opposite directions for college.