Chapter 70

If I was heavily into symbolism, Devlin thought as she drove to Chicago, I'd view today's journey as a passage from one life to another. Fortunately I'm not.

She laughed, feeling a bit free. Part of it, she knew, was anticipation. If everything went as she expected, by the time she left Chicago she was going to be engaged. Of course if things didn't... She wasn't sure what she would do if that was the case. Go back to Emma's? That might not be an option. She'd sort of burned her bridges there. Well, not really, but people had expectations, and she hated to disappoint them.

Should she call Cindy? No, that was definitely over. It wouldn't be the same without Doug. Speaking of which, she hadn't heard from him in a while. She did have a phone number, though, and whatever happened this week, she'd better call him.

Fragments of the night before came back. That time in the hot tub had been the most fun, several women sharing moments of their life. That she was going to miss, no matter how things turned out.

"I was 8 when I saw a boy naked," one woman said. She snorted once, humorously. "I was curious, but nobody would answer my questions about why boys were different 'down there'. Then I overheard my 16 year-old cousin. She and her boyfriend were doing it for the first time."

"Not exactly something you want an 8 year-old girl to find out," another woman said.

"Yeah, especially because she started off saying things like 'It's so big!', and ended up saying how much it hurt."

"What did you do?" Devlin asked.

The woman, a brunette with short hair and implants, smiled and splashed some of the water against her neck. "I did what most girls probably do: I went back to my room and tried to imagine what was going on. I knew boys grew up, but did that mean that thing of theirs grew in proportion? I remember touching myself down there, and learning that I could barely get my little finger in."

She laughed again. "If you told me then that 30 years later I'd be obsessed by that 'thing' guys have, and constantly thinking of ways to get it inside me, I'd have called you nuts."

"Constantly?" Devlin asked.

"My husband and I make love at least three a week, and sometimes we'll meet for a nooner. And there's this group in Urbana we belong to that meets on opposite weekends from this one." She sighed. "There are days I feel like I can't get enough, but then I look at my life and think I'm getting more than my share."

"How young were you when you started?" another woman asked.

"Fifteen," the woman said. "I joke with my husband that we've been trying to make up for those lost 15 years ever since. That first time..." She sighed, staring blankly at the wall. "I think I was struck, afterwards, by how it didn't feel like I thought it would."

"I think everyone has that thought," Devlin said. "I know I didn't."

"When did you start?" the woman asked Devlin.

Devlin decided to fib a little. "A couple of days before my 15th birthday, though we didn't start 'doing it' until later. I saw the boy next door beating off."

"Were you... I know I was surprised at how big boys got." The woman who'd spoken stretched and settled deeper in the water. "I had no idea how he could get that thing in me. I could barely insert a tampon; how much harder would it be to take a dick?"

"I'm a nurse," the second woman said. "When I took my first course in anatomy the instructor basically said a penis was just a flexible tube for evacuating waste and placing semen in a woman's body. She called a vagina a 'relaxed birth canal'." She laughed lightly. "She was a bit of a shriveled prune and had never been married. As far as we were concerned, she didn't know what she was talking about."

"I stumbled on some pictures," Devlin said. "Looking back on it, those guys weren't any great size, but when you're 14 you have different ideas. I know I got really excited when he came. I can still see that jet of come, one long ropy string of white after another. I went back to my room and fantasized about it... and masturbated."

"I was 18 before I saw a guy come," a fourth woman said. "What's funny is that I was active when I was 15."

"How did... what happened?" the first woman asked. "I think we all saw a guy come when we first started."

The fourth woman laughed. "I was being a good Christian girl. I'd been told that we weren't supposed to 'do it', but nobody could show me where it said that in the Bible, so I decided it was just a parent thing. I'd also been told we weren't supposed to masturbate, but I didn't read that passage the way everyone else did."

"The story of Onan?" another woman asked.

"That's the one. As far as I could tell, Onan was punished for ejaculating on the ground rather than in the girl. I was a girl and didn't ejaculate, Onan was a guy, and did, so plainly that whole passage didn't apply to me. However, I didn't want God to punish my boyfriend for pulling out, and since we were using rubbers, it only seemed right that he should come in me. I was 18 and in college the first time I saw a guy come." She giggled. "It was my freshman year, and I was doing it with my new boyfriend, and just before he came, he pulled out. He shot it all over my body, most of it landing on my tits. It seemed like he absolutely covered them. I was so fascinated I wanted him to do it again, but I couldn't tell him why I wanted to see him come like that."

"It's not just big busted girls like you," another woman said, "but I really get off on guys coming on my boobs. I don't know what it is, but the sight just really gets to me. Maybe that's why we've only had two kids."

Everyone laughed.

"Back to something you said, Janet," a woman said. "I agree. When I was little, if you'd told me that I'd be going to parties where the whole point was to have guys put their thing in me, and I'd look forward to it, I don't think I'd have believed you."

"We want it as much as men do," the brunette said. "I think those of us in the lifestyle have just admitted it. Most of my girlfriends will giggle and change the subject, but they won't disagree."

"That's part of being a proper lady," Devlin said. She levered herself out of the tub. "You know? There are times I just don't feel like being a proper lady."

"Like right now?" the brunette asked.

"Like right now," Devlin confirmed. She grabbed a towel and dried herself off. "See you all later. I'm going to find something unladylike to do."

Devlin smiled. She certainly had. She'd gotten up to all sorts of unladylike mischief in the next couple of hours.

She slowed, seeing her exit up ahead. Evan's hotel was full. Apparently there was some sort of preseason NFL game on Sunday night, and nobody could get a room. Fortunately she'd found a hotel just down the street. The rack rate was a little more than she'd wanted, but there were more amenities than some of the places she'd stayed at while doing sales.

After she checked in, and was regaled about the breakfast buffet, the parking garage, and the other things the hotel offered, she wanted to sprawl on the bed and relax. She couldn't, not for a few minutes. Instead she unpacked and inspected her clothes for wrinkles. There were more than a few, so she set up the ironing board and took care of them. By the time she was done she just turned on the TV and vegged out. The night before—and the morning that followed—had taken more out of her than she'd thought.

ESPN was on the hotel's TV list, and she watched half-heartedly. The scroll at the bottom of the screen had all of the baseball scores; the Athletics and Cleveland were knotted at 3 each in the 5th inning.

She knew she still had issues, such as: did she and Marie really have something there, or was it just the kind of pent-up excitement you got at a lifestyle party? The trouble was, the only way she knew to sort it out was with long hours of talk. She had school, and Marie was busy with her styling salons. She should probably tell Krissi, but... Was that really a good idea? Would Krissi be jealous? She wasn't of Evan, but it was a different kind of love.

She smiled at the ceiling. How would that woman in the hot tube react to knowing she had one female lover, and quite possibly a second? She already knew the answer to that. Whey you're 14, a lot of things are certain in your life, and not having sex with a woman was one of them. Look at Lisa. Even she didn't know she was a lesbian until she was older.

"I'm beginning to brood," Devlin told herself. She knew the cure for that. She took out a trashy romance and lost herself in the story of a woman who was as dumb as a box of rocks, and a man who was worse. After a few chapters she had a nice dinner brought up by room service, and laid out what she was going to wear the next day at the office.

She checked ESPN one last time before going to sleep. Cleveland 4, Oakland 4, in the 12th inning.

She was killing time, she knew it, but she had to give the appearance of being productive. The next morning she was supposed to give a product lecture to the new gals they'd hired. Devlin did so, and was brought up short by one gal who was clearly from New Jersey.

"So we sell everything except training bras," the woman said. "I've always wondered. What are we training boobs to do? Sit up?"

The class giggled.

"Ideally, yes," Devlin replied, trying not to be put off by the girl's wisecrack. "If we could train every girl's boobs to be perky, then we wouldn't need bras. If you find some muscles in that part of the chest, please let everyone know."

The girl, Brenda, frowned. "Why don't we sell training bras?"

"Because that isn't our market," Devlin replied. "You'll find that your most reliable sales will come through hospitals. There's a steady market for bras and pads that will give a woman an even silhouette. You'll get a lot of customers who've had mastectomies. After that, check out the women's sports teams. We make a better than average sports bra, and we can send you a list of references that should guarantee a lot of sales."

"I know what it is," Brenda said. "It's all right to help fit a developed woman, but if you do it to a young girl, you're considered a pervert."

"Only if you're a guy," Devlin replied. "If you want to fit a training bra, ask the girl what size tee-shirt she wears. That'll be the same size." She waited to see if Brenda was going to go on, but apparently she'd run out of wisecracks. But when she turned around she heard the girl whisper something. She didn't catch all of it, but she did hear the word 'cow'.

She had a cure for that, one originated by the founder of the company. She went over to a cabinet and drew out a special, oversized bra, and two nine-pound bowling balls. She tossed the bra to Brenda.

"Here, put this on. And when you do, slip these in." She put the bowling balls on the table in the front of the room.

"Put them in the bra? What for?" Brenda looked appalled.

"Last year I weighed my boobs," Devlin said. "They weigh as much as these bowling balls. Now I didn't have surgery, these are all me. And I want you to walk in my shoes for a few moments."

The other girls began clapping and chanting "Put it on! Put it on!"

Brenda, her face flaming, struggled into the bra with the help of one of the girls sitting next to her. She gingerly placed the bowling balls in the gargantuan cups, and then had to catch herself from falling over. She stood, but only slowly and with effort.

Devlin gave her a tight smile. "Moving on to fabrics..."

She mentioned the incident to one of the girls she'd known off and on for a couple of years. "Yeah, Brenda can be a problem. I was taking her and some others through the basics of how to do a fitting when she suggested we should develop support wear for men."

"Now there's a fitting I'd like to do," one of the middle-aged women who worked in the office said.

"Wouldn't you have some problems with... um, variable size?" Devlin asked, smiling.

"Then there'd be the fun of... handling... that. After a few minutes it'd be nice and relaxed, and we could proceed with the fitting."

"Sounds fun," Devlin said. "Can I be in charge of recruiting the guys we'd need for testing?"

The other woman laughed. "Okay, but you get to take this to management. I'd like to see their reaction."

"They may be more willing than we think," Devlin said, "but I doubt it. Oh well, mark it down as another good idea that'll go nowhere."

"Yeah. Still, a girl can wish."

"You know," the older woman said, "you're not done with Brenda. You're going to set up that San Francisco Sales Area, aren't you."

"After I graduate," Devlin said.

"Brenda goes to Cal Berkley. She'll be reporting to you."

"Must be karma or something," Devlin said. "All right, I'll make an effort to be nice to her from now on."

The rest of the afternoon couldn't pass quickly enough. The weather was hot and muggy, and Devlin felt her clothes sticking to her by the time she returned to the hotel. A shower and 20 minutes with the air conditioning turned to the coldest she could stand made her feel better. She smiled as she dressed. She'd just as soon stay in her room where it was comfortable, but there was this duty and hope, though she didn't expect anything tonight. Krissi had thought he'd propose on Tuesday night. So did Amnita and Marie. It seemed the most logical time. There really wouldn't be time tonight after the game.

He had a ticket waiting for her, and a polite usher directed her to the Player's Wives section. She smiled and waved at a couple of familiar faces.

"I thought you'd make it," Sarah said. Her husband Jake was a reserve infielder, a player who had knocked around the Majors for years without ever quite sticking with a team.

"I have one more term of school," Devlin replied, "and then I'll be moving west."

Sarah looked pointedly at Devlin's left hand. "Are you ready for The Question?"

"I think so. I just hope he doesn't do something to embarrass me in front of everyone like putting it up on the scoreboard."

"I checked, he won't."

"You know... ?"

"Not when he'll ask, no. But I checked with the PA people, and the ones who run the scoreboard. He doesn't have anything planned."

"Thank God for that," Devlin said. "I don't want to be a public spectacle."

Trish came up and gave her a big hug. "Good to see you! How've you been?"

"Busy," Devlin said. "How's the baby?"

"Ugh, teething. Fortunately I'd switched him to the bottle, so I don't have him chewing me to pieces."

"My sympathies," Sarah said. "Our youngest did that two years ago during the play-offs. There's a reason Jake did better on road games than at home."

All three women laughed. "If only the stat heads knew what went into some of the statistics they so lovingly compile," Trish said. "Come sit down next to us. Did you meet Carol? Her husband came to us at the trading deadline, as did Leanne over there with the baby."

Devlin was immersed into a new series of names and faces, most of whom she thought she might remember. By then it was time to stand for the National Anthem. The players took the field, and the game got underway.

She'd read that some games were totally forgettable, even by the players, and by the 6th inning it was clear this was one of them. Evan pitched the 7th—"He's in because he needs the work," Sarah said—but that was the only highlight. It was a 3-2 White Sox victory, and the winning run was unearned on a wild pitch in the bottom of the 9th.

"When did you get in?" Trish asked as they got up. "And where are you staying?"

"At a place down the street from the team hotel."

"Now see? If you two will just get around to getting married, then you could stay in the team hotel with the rest of us."

"First he has to ask me," Devlin said. She smiled when she realized she'd been saying that a lot lately. She probably sounded like a broken record.

"I gave him your ring size, but we may need to make some adjustments." Trish waved at one of the other women. "Angie. Your husband played here for two years."

"Yeah. So?"

"If Devlin has to get a ring resized, where can she go?"

"I don't remember the name of the place," Angie said, "but if you give me a minute or so with a phone book I'll be able to tell you."

"I may need it," Devlin said. "Do you remember if they work fast?"

"Alex proposed in the morning, and I had a properly fitted ring just in time for the game that evening."

"That'll do," Devlin said.

She followed Trish and the others down into the bowels of the stadium. They were stopped by a security guard, who checked them off one at a time. Following his directions, they emerged in a hall just down from the clubhouse. Reporters and camera crew were going in and out, so Rose and a couple of the older wives drew everyone back so they weren't obvious; the players would have to pass them on the way to the bus.

When the players did emerge she singled Evan out of the pack. He looked tired, and she commented on it after the obligatory hello-kisses.

"It's the travel," he said. "You can't sleep that well on a plane." He shook his head. "I don't know how the guys from Seattle can put up with it. They fly a lot more miles than we do."