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Message-ID: <28060asstr$977926202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: One Gallus <onegallus@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} QUEEN JULIA
Date: Wed, 27 Dec 2000 09:10:02 -0500
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   <1st attachment, "QJ.txt" begin>

   {assm} Author: One Gallus Title: QUEEN JULIA (MF cheat) Disclaimer Not
to be read: by anyone under the age of 18 or if it violates the standards
or laws of your community: or if adult erotica offends you.

   Not to be posted on any site, or changed or used in any way without
author's permission.

   QUEEN JULIA by One Gallus

   Julia was an excellent cook, and quite the hostess.  My wife Lillie and
I were always glad to accept an invitation to the Hargreaves, marveling at
Julia's ability to work the same hours as Lillie did at Marshall Surveys,
yet entertain as effortlessly and deliciously as she seemed to do.  At the
dinner, four couples, including Thom and Julia, sat around the great oak
table in their elegant dining room.

   Thom was a Jeep salesman.  His dealership was not far from the main
plant in Toledo.  He had been a rising star at GMAC but corporate politics
cut his career short at age fifty.  Now, here he was, four years later,
with a smaller home in a more modest neighborhood.  Nowadays there were two
Jeeps in his driveway instead of two Cadillacs.  On that night, my own Jeep
Cherokee, which Thom had sold me, was parked behind his.  We were reminding
the neighborhood of what made Toledo great.

   We knew the other couples, the girls and their husbands from the Julia's
office.  I use "girls" advisedly, remembering that at our age, male or
female, we appreciate such youthful allusions, or should I say "illusions?"
When I say "Julia's office" I don't mean she owned the company, but she was
senior to the rest of the girls and was responsible for their employment.
That is, they were hired on her say-so.  She was a sort of semi-supervisor,
yet was able to maintain friendship and social activity with those who
worked under her.  The men were connected to this party solely through
their wives.  Had it not been for Julia, we probably would never have met
each other.  Had we not met, I would have been saved an embarrassing,
albeit a memorable experience.

   Julia served her delicious lasagna variety, and each of the couples
brought a salad.  Julia, as always, served us up a surprise: homemade
garlic bread and homemade spumoni.  The Hargreaves were effective catalysts
to conversation and we found it hard to leave the table.  We happily
lingered, even after dessert, burping and visiting happily.  If someone had
opened the front door of Julia's house, smelled the spices and listened for
a moment, they would have concluded that this was a group who thoroughly
enjoyed each other and good food.

   The only fly in the ointment was the dog, Tootsie, the Hargreaves' toy
poodle.  She was nervously running under the table, then out again, halting
suddenly at our sides, looking up and begging pitifully for a bite of
something.  Julia had seated us indiscriminately around the table and I sat
between her and my wife.  I was chatting amiably with Julia and Gertie, the
woman next to Julia.  The subject was music.  Tootsie was sniffing around
Gertie's feet.  This I knew, because of Gertie's "Ohs" and "Oops." From
some reason, Thom and Julia were blind and deaf when it came to Tootsie. 
They did nothing.

   "I love country music and I love Garth Brooks!" Gertie drawled.  She was
a Texas girl and liked country/rock stars like Garth and his clones.

   "I like some country music and I like a few of Garth's songs," I said,
"but I get the feeling he's a rocker in a cowboy hat."

   Julia said, "Come on you two, you can't be serious about country music,
gag, gag, and boy-howdy!" She made as though she were putting her finger
down her throat.  "People our age should be listening to Barbara Streisand
and Frank Sinatra!"

   I half-kidded her, "Well Julia, Frank is good but Frank is dead.  Now,
that doesn't men I don't like a lot of his stuff, especially his music back
in the Dorsey days.  Of course Julia you know you and I were both wearing
diapers back then, cloth ones.

   "So?" she challenged.

   "So, even though his music is good, we've should to keep our minds open
for all sorts of music, new and old and different.  There's good stuff from
every genre."

   "John Ray who?" chimed in Thom, "Wasn't he a singer?" If habitual
punning is a sign of intelligence, then Thom Hargreaves is brilliant. 
Actually, he is quite clever, and I am proud to have him as a friend.

   I felt Tootsie lick my ankles just above my socks, and I startled just a
bit.  I wished they would put the feisty bitch in a bedroom and lock the
door.  But I kept my temper, painted a smile on my face and ignored the
distraction.

   "Now, Julia," I said, leaning toward her.  She turned her hazel eyes
sharply toward me.  A quizzical smile hovered on her lips.  I continued,
though Julia seemed to be half-listening.  "What touches me is Celtic. 
Maybe it's the pagan origins, but Julia, it will tickle your body in a way
you thought you'd forgot about.  You really need to go with me down to
Cincinnati to the Celtic Festival." I leaned closer to Julia, warming to my
subject.  "Country music is a spin-off from Celtic and country is at its
best when it sticks to its roots.  Actually, some classical music may be a
spin-off from Celtic.  There's something very unique and very mysterious
about Celtic music.  It can really get your blood pumping!"

   Julia held my gaze as I talked.  She held her fork motionless, in
midjourney, over her plate.  In her other hand she held a slice of her
homemade bread.  I tried to picture those beautiful hands as they squeezed
and kneaded the dough.  Her lips were still tucked in that cryptic smile.

   Time had not been absolutely kind to Julia's face, yet there was an
indication of true beauty somewhere under the wrinkles.  She had high
cheekbones, and a refined classic line to the structure of her brow and
nose.  It was as if her loveliness were saying to time, "Do what you will,
I will not leave this face."

   Unfortunately, she had gained many pounds.  Then, fortunately, she had
shed many pounds.  So the essence of her stature was that of an
average-sized woman.  However, the aura that she projected was still
full-bodied the skin not shrinking with the mass.  I know this matronly
look is feared by many women and shunned by many men, but nubility in a
woman has become rather a small thing to me.  Perhaps it's my age, but to
me, there is something very charming and even physically attractive in a
self-possessed woman of discretion and character, even though she is not
svelte and smooth.

   Notwithstanding Julia's appeal, I was beginning to feel a bit
uncomfortable under her quirky stare.  Finally, she relented but it was as
if she were tearing her eyes away.  Then, it seemed she made a point to
ignore me and shifting away, she continued her conversation with Gertie.

   I really do like Julia, though I think she's just a smidgen pretentious.
She speaks of her sophisticated tastes in food, theater and music as if
she'd taken in every cultural event New York.  With this small exception, I
consider her to be the gracious epitome of the wide wonderful woman in
whose presence I've always felt favored and comfortable.  Julia was
constantly composed, controlled and invariably placid.  I have seen her
exposed to harassment and battered with insults from boorish customers at
her office, but she kept her cool every time.  Her voice was always steady
and low, her aspect, serene and settled.  She never grew sharp-edged or
hard faced with her distracters.  In contrast, my handsome wife was
raw-boned, energetic, and volatile.  If you wronged Lillie, you would
definitely pay, and pay quickly.  I loved her but I was drawn to the
warmth, depth and "womanesque" ("femininity" is not the word) of this regal
lady, so aptly named Julia.

   The poodle barked sharply under the table and a couple of the ladies
screamed in surprise.  Thom stooped from his chair and scooped her up and
took her to a back room.  The party trotted on for a while and then was
abandoned, reluctantly, by those who had to rise early the next morning. 
This of course made the rest of us conscious of the time, and we began to
break up.

   That night, Thom stood at the door and bade goodnight to his guests one
by one, wise cracking his surprisingly funny jokes.  I went back to the
bedroom to get our coats.  Gertie, the Garth lover, passed me on the way
out, smiled and said, "Good nahght, Doug."

   Julia was in the bedroom helping the guests retrieve their jackets from
the bed where they'd been piled.  She held up mine for me.  "Looks like
yours is the last!" she smiled.

   "Thanks Julia," I said, and slipped my arms into the waiting sleeves. 
"I always have a good time at your house.  Thanks for inviting us."

   "You had a better time than usual tonight, didn't you, Douglas?" She
smoothed my jacket across my shoulders.

   In confusion I turned to her and said, "Yes, I guess so, why?"

   "I felt."

   From the hallway, I heard Lillie's voice, "Julia?" She came in smiling
and thanking Julia for the invitation.  She slipped on her coat and gave
Julia a hug.  As she did, Julia looked over Lillie's shoulder at me and
with that peculiar smile; she mouthed, "Later." I shrugged my shoulders and
raised my eyebrows.



   I picked up my desk phone the next morning, "Lower Maumee Counseling
Services, this is Doug McPherson."

   "Douglas?" she said.

   "Yes," I said, "Julia?"

   "Yes, do you have any time today?"

   "I have a two-hour lunch today, Julia, what do you need?"

   "Could you come by?"

   "Your office?" I asked.

   "No, come to the house, I'll give you a sandwich."

   "OK, Julia, but could I ask you something?"

   "Wait till you get here, Doug," she said.

   At 12:15 I parked in Julia's driveway and went to her front door and
rang the bell.

   She opened the door, and smiled and said, "Come in Doug, sit down."

   "Thanks, Julia.  It's nice of you to fix my lunch."

   I stepped through her small foyer and down a step into her "great room."
I sat on the couch.  A TV table was set up by my place and on it a bottle
of Maumee Spring Water.  Next to the spring water was a chicken salad
sandwich, made with Julia's homemade bread.

   "Dig in," she said, "I'll be back in a few," and she gracefully glided
out of the room.  The TV was on, and I watched CNN as I chewed.  The
sandwich was every bit as tasty as the dinner the night before.

   "Doug," she said, coming back into the room, "Look at these," and she
walked over and handed me a large manila envelope.  I opened it and pulled
out several 8 X 10 photographs and quite a number of small ones.  Julia
took a seat beside me, picked up the TV remote and lowered the volume.

   The first picture was a college photo of Julia, with the name of her
small-town college embossed at the edge of the photo.  There was no
mistaking the facial bone structure, and as I glanced up, I saw that her
eyes were as vital now as they were in this beautiful young image.  She
wore an evening gown, cinched at a slender waist.  Her prominent breasts
rose under a low cut dress.  She was carrying a small corsage-size bouquet
of flowers in both hands and looking down and away from her, like she had
noticed a beloved subject in her kingdom and was favoring him with her
smile.  The same placid look was on her face that I had seen many times in
recent years.

   Other pictures included wedding photographs of her and Thom, he in his
dress-blue of the Marines, and her in a white gown.  Then a came a shot of
her and her daughter, as she stood holding the toddler her by her hand.

   "That was adoption day," she said.

   "You mean, she's not your own child?"

   "Never been pregnant," she said, smiling serenely.

   I looked at her daughter again, then sifted back through the pictures,
going to the first one from college.  The beauty was so apparent and so
deep, it had an emotional effect on me.  It was then I looked up and with a
lump in my throat said, "God, Julia, you are beautiful."

   "Then," she said.  "I was beautiful, then."

   "Julia, there's more to beauty than."

   "I got old and fat.  Men don't turn their heads anymore.  It's a hard
thing to go from that," she pointed to the photo, "to this," spreading her
hands, indicating herself.  "Thom doesn't touch me, even though I lost all
that weight."

   "Julia, what."

   "So when you put your hand on my leg last night, I was.a tiny bit
insulted, but I must admit, a little flattered.  I was a pleased and
puzzled at the same time."

   If she were puzzled, I was mystified.  Yet I was sensitive to some very
tender feelings here.  In a play for time, I looked away from Julia and
stared at her pictures again.  How should I have answered her?  My friends
tell me that I worry too much about other people's feelings.  Perhaps it's
my experience as a people-helper, but if a boorish response causes a client
to slam a door or erect a barrier, then I wouldn't function well as a
counselor.  Though I wasn't her counselor, I didn't want to slam a door in
Julia's face.  After all, she was a friend.

   As I dithered about just how to answer, Julia took my hand.  I
stiffened, sensing what was happening.  I wanted to say, Hold it right
there, Julia, give me time to think!  Instead, she shifted her hand around
on my palm and I imagined it being stroked with living silk.  She had
grasped my hand as if she were going to arm wrestle with me, only gently.
Caught up in the sensuousness of the moment, my mind blanked out.  There
was only the feel and image of Julia's hand, small, womanly, and holding
mine.  Her fingers were tapered sweetly, and then further tapered by her
long russet colored nails.  The backs of her hands were flawless; no
disclosure of her age was there.  They were the hands of the girl in the
photograph.  Even when Julia was heavy, she didn't have the pudgy hands of
some big women.  Now, to see her white fingers encircle my own was a
wonderfully exotic experience to me.

   She pulled the back of my hand to her bosom, laying it on her
breastbone. The cleavage of her breasts was definitive even with the
modestly cut neckline of her sweater.  She pressed my hand into her soft
flesh and moved it over to her left, stretching the fabric of her sweater
as she did.  Her eyes were fixed on mine as she reached with her other hand
and with her long nails, released two of the buttons at her neck, baring
the top of her breast above the nipple.  She slid the back of my hand
there, and I felt the hard beat-beat of her heart.  She put her free arm
around my neck and pulled me to her lips, trapping me in her billowy
softness.  It was a long, tender kiss, very sweet and full of affection.

   As we drew back I found my tongue and said brokenly, "Julia, I don't
know quite what to say to you.  I`m very fond of you, and I think you're
charming and attractive, but Julia, I didn't put my hand on your leg, I'm
sorry."

   She was very close to me, looking into my eyes, confused and silent,
working through the problem.  Her arm was still around my neck, the back of
my hand on her breast.  Her eyes widened, and she blinked several times. 
"Could it have been my dog?"

   She immediately released me.  "Oh my God Douglas!" Her hands traveled to
her face and covered her eyes.  She jerked her head forward in obvious
frustration.  "What an ass I am," she said.  I had never seen her undone
before.  Her face was twisted in obvious emotional agony, her cheeks were
splotched with red.  "What a big, fat, ass I am!" she repeated, accenting
each word.

   "No Julia," I pled, "Please don't say that about yourself!  I put my
hands on her shoulders and looked directly at her.  She turned her face
away from me and began crying.  "Please Julia," I said, "It's all right."

   "All right?" she wailed.  "What will you think of me?  What will Lillie
think of me?"

   "Lillie will think just what she's always thought," I said, "She'll
never hear about it from me."

   "But I won't know how to behave around you! I feel so ridiculous,
Douglas, so asinine!"

   "Nope," I said, "Nothing has changed.  This is our secret.  I still
think of you as a friend" She continued to sniffle.  "I'm very fond of you,
Julia.  I'm flattered you've opened yourself up to me this way.  If
anything, it'll make us closer friends."

   She shook her head, and said, "That's sweet of you Doug, but I'm not
sure I'll even how to act around you after this.  Her head was turned to
the side, not meeting my eyes.  Her tears were flowing and she was sniffing
sharply, hunching her shoulders at the effort.  "Thank you for not saying
anything, Douglas.  I . .  .  I really do think you'd feel better if you
left, don't you?"

   "Whatever you think, Julia, please don't let this worry you." I left her
reluctantly, and I looked back before I closed the door.  She was sitting
on the couch, her hands balled up in fists at her mouth, shaking her head
no.



   Queen Julia Part 2

   "Doug," Lillie said a week later, "Julia has been acting awfully strange
here lately." Lillie's nose wrinkled at the word "strange."

   "Really?  How's that?"

   "It's like she is walking around in a daze or something.  It's been like
this since the party at her house."

   "Did you ask her about it?" I said.

   "Yes!  She says, `Nothing's wrong, everything is fine,' then she
withdraws again.

   "Humm."

   "I wish you'd stop by our office and just observe her sometime, maybe
say something to her.  I think she really needs to see someone," said
Lillie

   "You know, it's really hard to do that with a friend, Lillie.  Why don't
you just ask her and Thom to go out with us some time?  Don't let it show
that you're worried or feel anything is wrong.  Some weekend, let just us
four take in a musical or something."

   I felt the need to make some sort of friendly overture to Julia, to let
her know that the friendship between the two couples was still desirable
and that Lillie had no notion of what had happened.

   "Gee with that couple, it'll have to be Beethoven's Ninth," Lillie said,
wrinkling her nose again.

   "I will trust you with the arrangements.  But one thing you might do,
Lillie." I thought it over, "Let this be your idea and not mine.  Don't
tell her I suggested it."

   "Why?"

   "It's more natural coming from you.  If it comes from me, she might
think I'm pulling some kind of therapeutic ploy on her.  She might not
accept."

   What I did not tell Lillie was, that if it were I who asked Julia, she
would see it as a chivalrous patronization of her feelings.  The fact that
she would be right was beside the point.  I did not want this lady's spirit
to be battered any more than it already had been.



   Two days later, Lillie said, "Well, we have a double date with the
Hargreaves next weekend!"

   "Yeah?  Good!  Where're we going?" I asked.

   "I asked them to come with us to the Celtic Festival in Cincinnati!" she
said.

   "Really?" I said surprised, "Is it time for that already?  Did you
stress it was an two-night stay?"

   "Yep, I told her she hadn't been looking well and she needed the time
off for her own health.  I hope that was OK but I had to tell her
something."

   "Well she accepted, didn't she?  That's the main thing.  I'm surprised
Thom would take off the weekend."

   "I get the impression that Thom is just as upset as the rest of us are
about Julia's funk," said Lillie, "She wasn't too keen on going, and put me
off at first, said she'd ask Thom.  I think he surprised her by saying
yes."

   "You think she's any better at all?"

   "It's hard to say.  She's just not Julia.  It's not as if she's losing
her temper, or anything.  She just doesn't seem to care."

   "About what?"

   "About anything!  Oh by the way, I've booked two rooms at the Quality
Inn."

   I hoped that our friends could get into the festival as much as we
always seem to do.  I was somewhat apprehensive because of Julia's refined
taste.  Irish music was laid back and loose.  The less casual Scottish
music might be more to her liking.  Scottish music was more "straight-up"
than Irish.  Lillie loved it but I adored the Irish aspect of the program,
with its quieter, more humble uilleann pipes, wooden flutes and bodhran.

   Lillie also liked the import exhibits and booths that sold all sorts of
Celtic regalia and curiosities.  Her favorite performance was the young
girls and women, trained in the Highland dance.  They competed every year
at the festival.  However, this was not my cup of Scottish tea.  I usually
found a tent where some Irish group was performing or jamming.

   Lillie was impatient for the weekend to come and when Festival Friday
finally arrived, she popped out of bed and said, "This is the day!"

   That morning at the breakfast table, Lillie said, "Doug, you didn't
schedule appointments late this afternoon, did you?

   "No, the last one is over at 3:00."

   "Good!  I want to see the girls' qualifying dances at 8:00 PM."

   "Should be no problem to get out of town by four o'clock, if not
before." It was a full four-hour drive to Cincinnati.  It would place us
through Dayton about 7:00 and then on in to Cincinnati by 8:00 PM.  Lillie
might miss five minutes of her precious dance program.

   "Doug, I know you can't control everything, but I want you to be really
tough on your clients today." She tapped the air with her forefinger, which
meant she really did mean what she said.  Please don't extend the sessions,
please!  I really do want to see the beginning of the qualifications."

   "What time do you get off today?" I asked.

   "Julia is letting me off at noon.  She'll have to work till 2:00.  We
have some clients flying in from Germany and she has to get them settled in
a hotel, but that shouldn't take long.  Thom took off the whole day, so you
are the key, babe.  Don't let us down." I knew there would be the devil to
pay if I did.

   Friday morning was pretty laid back.  I had a couple of cancellations
and I used the time to catch up on some paper work.  My 1:00 PM and 2:00 PM
both showed.  At 2:30 the receptionist interrupted the session by coming
into the room.  She whispered to me.  "I got a call about Paula Kendall,
Doug, she is locked in her bedroom with a loaded pistol.  The police want
you to go talk with her."

   Paula was a 25-year-old divorcee.  She had been seeing the resident
psychologist and me on a regular basis, with side trips to the
psychiatrist. I made an excuse to the client and told him goodbye.  I told
the receptionist to call my wife and fill her in, and took off for the
slums where Paula now lived.  At 5:00 PM I handed the police sergeant
Paula's pistol.  I have always been amazed how cooperative some potential
suicides can be if they trust you and you take enough interest in them and
enough time.

   I was exhausted from the tension in the shabby little apartment.  Now I
had go home an hour-and-a-half-late and face my high-strung wife.  I pulled
into my driveway and opened the garage and drove in with great
apprehension. My wife was counting on being in Cincinnati at 8:00 and it
would absolutely incense her to miss something like this.

   I opened the inside door to the kitchen and saw the two suitcases
sitting there.  No doubt they'd been there since 3:00 PM.  Tough titty!  I
thought.  Lillie was just going to have to like it or lump it.  This is my
job we were talking about here!

   I heard the TV in the family room, fortified myself, and walked in. 
"Hello Douglas," Julie Hargreaves said.





   Part 3 "Julia!  What?  What's going on?  Where's Lillie?" I felt as if
I'd walked into the wrong house.

   Julia laughed nervously and shook her head, "I know, Douglas, it's all
very strange.  Being so late, I really didn't think we should go tonight,
but Thom insisted.  And, now, of all things, you and I are paired up,
traveling together.  I hope you don't think this was my idea."

   "Oh, traveling with you is not a problem, Julia, but where is Lillie?"

   Well, first of all, Lillie and Thom are on their way to Cincinnati. 
We're to meet them either at the park, or at the motel depending on the
time."

   I now knew immediately what had happened.  Lillie is an absolute
compulsive in these matters.  When she writes such an event on her
calendar, it has been cast in bronze, especially if it's something she
ardently desires to do.  If she were to be in Cincinnati at 8:00 PM to see
Scottish dancers, then it would be so.

   As if to confirm my diagnosis, Julia said, "Your wife is amazing, she
called me almost in tears, talking about a suicide threat.  I thought she
was talking about herself till she told me it was a client of yours.  She
said she didn't know why you had to work at a place like that, that it
controlled your life, and so on and so forth." Julia paused and shook her
head, an amused smile on her face.  "When I told her that I might be late
too and that Thom had been ready go for several hours, she took it from
there.  She said she'd leave me a key under the fifth brick around the
flowerbed.  So I let myself in."

   "Yep, that's Lillie!"

   "I was supposed to get off at 2:00, but our clients from Germany didn't
arrive until 4:00.  I'm sorry Doug, I hope I don't make you uncomfortable."

   "That's enough of that Julia," I dismissed her apprehension with a wave
of my hand.  "You and I are old friends, and I want you to quit chastising
yourself over a simple misunderstanding.  Relax, we're going to have fun!"

   She sighed, then smiled.  "Yep, you're right.  I guess I've beaten up
myself enough over this.  I'll try to put it out of my mind.  I am going to
have fun!"

   I was pleased at her effort, but I was still apprehensive.

   Julia said, "I can tell you this, Doug, Lillie not too pleased with
you."

   "Yeah, I didn't think she would be, but, you know, the young lady just
wouldn't postpone her suicide unless I talked it over with her.  Can you
imagine anyone being so thoughtless?" She laughed and I said, "Are you
ready to go?"

   She picked up her rust-colored suede jacket from the back of the rocker,
put it across her arm and turned a quarter pirouette toward me, amazingly
graceful for a woman of her proportions.  Julia was dressed in a green silk
blouse and a charcoal brown skirt.  Her frosted brown hair was short and
fluffed out, like a loose "helmet," which complemented her face and rounded
figure as well as her wardrobe.  She had removed her dark suede loafers and
they had been placed together in line by the rocking chair where she'd been
waiting for me.  Her stockings were sheer and neutral in tone, and I
noticed the well-shaped feet and the russet nails on her toes, which
matched her fingers.  Obviously, she was as fastidious about her feet as
she was her hands.  She came to a stop with her toe pointing toward me, her
hands out from her side, palms up, showing me her finery.  "Ta-Taah!" she
sang.  "I thought the green shirt was a nice touch, you know, Irish."

   "You are lovely, Julia, and I do appreciate the company.  I'm presuming
that Lillie packed for me?"

   Julia was putting on her shoes, "Yes, and she said not to dawdle, with a
pointed finger!" And she pointed her finger at me.

   At 6:20 PM we pulled out of my driveway and headed for I-75.  The rush
hour traffic was beginning to subside but still slowed us a bit.  By 6:50
we were past Perrysburg and out on the open highway.  I can't say exactly
how long after that, or how far south we were, but events began to
transpire that neither Julia nor I will ever forget.  By now, darkness had
settled over the autumn skies, and only a memory of the daylight lingered.
Streetlights were behind us, but the glow from the rising moon would have
made it almost possible to travel without artificial light.  As it was, I
traveled 65 when I could and 60 most of the time, with my car lights on.

   Julia and I had been carrying through with easy small talk up to this
point.  I was still a bit fearful she might want to rehash the subject of
our "encounter." I hated to repeat the same litany to her again and again,
but I was prepared to cant out the same reassurance if I had to.

   Eventually, she said, "Douglas?"

   I steeled myself for the disclaimer, "Yes?"

   "I have to tinkle."

   "Oh, I'm sorry Julia!  I didn't even think!" clapping my hand to my
head. "I'm not very considerate, am I?  We'll stop at the next station."
Five minutes later I turned into first exit ramp we came to.  We drove up
onto a narrow blacktop road that wandered off into moonlit fields on both
sides of the freeway.  "Nothing here, Julia, sorry.  Next one for sure."

   We drove, and we drove.  I had not realized how far from the amenities
this part of I-75 was.  Surely there would be an exit calling us to
McDonald's or Wendy's or Bob Evans', or Mobil or Shell.  In my peripheral
vision, I observed Julia.  She was quiet but kept shifting in her seat.

   Finally, we drove up the next ramp.  There was an off-brand gas station
there but it had been boarded up.  Weeds were growing in the cracks of the
concrete service area.

   "I'm sorry Doug," she said, "But you need to let me out.  I'll just have
to manage the best way I can."

   I pulled to the side of the station and switched off the car lights.  In
a situation like this, I didn't know what my role should be, but I opted
for being helpful.  I opened my door and ran around the back of the Jeep to
get Julia's door.  She was already out the door and on her feet, headed for
the area behind the station.  The concrete drive-area was lit by a large
mercuryvapor lamp, high on a pole.

   "Julia, what can I do?" I said.

   "I don't know, Doug.  Look the other way, maybe?" She sounded a little
annoyed.

   She stepped out of sight around the corner and I stood there, torn
between an impulse to help and the inhibition of privacy.  Should I stay
close in case she needed something?  If I stayed close, I was sure to hear,
and how would she feel about that?  I hoped Julia would realize I was
trying to somehow salvage some dignity for her by staying away.  As I
waited, I forced myself to take note that the corn had been harvested in
some of the fields yet still standing in others, evidently hardening in the
ear to feed the livestock.  When Julia returned, she would see how
considerately I'd been spending my time.  I was still playing the
disinterested farmer, surveying his domain, when I heard her sob.

   I went to the corner of the station, "Julia?  Are you all right?" I
called.

   She sobbed again.  "O God, Douglas, I'm so embarrassed!"

   "Julia, forget embarrassed, tell me what to do!"

   "I . . .I . . ." and she sobbed again.

   I rounded the corner and saw her.  Her white buttocks were toward me,
and her skirt, panties and panty hose were in a tangle around her ankles.
Her knees were flexed, as if she had gotten half way down but could go no
further.  Her right arm was extended, as if to balance herself.  It was a
comic-grotesque sight, and I hoped I wouldn't grin.  I tried to keep my
voice under control as I walked toward her.

   "Douglas, I can't squat!  I've never have been able to squat," she
whined.  "I don't know how to squat!" she said furiously.

   I walked around in front of her, traveling on instinct, and reached out
with my hands.  "Julia, give me your hands."

   I took hold of both her hands, and she lowered herself into a hunkered
position.  I hunched down as she did, becoming a mirror image to her.  Thus
we supported each other by our counter weight.

   "I can't squat very well either Julia," trying to comfort her.  "I'd
fall right on my ass if I tried.  You're holding me up too." To Julia, this
statement and the image it produced, was somehow hilarious.  As she
giggled, she emitted little staccato squirts of urine with every chortle,
splattering loudly against the concrete.  This, in turn, was a cause for
further mirth and so there we were, squatting, laughing, driving away the
night-silence in a new found toilet-humor, without the toilet.  The only
thing that could have caused more merriment was if Julia had farted, which
of course she did.  It was only a short high-pitched quarter note, but
enough to set us off again.

   Suddenly, she screamed, and lunged at me and I fell back, just as I had
predicted.  "Ouch!" she yelled, cutting the fun short.

   "Julia, are you OK?"

   "I banged my knee," she said and gave a little grunt of pain.

   My concern over Julia's discomfort, however, didn't mitigate my
sensitivity to the fact that her naked belly now rested on my crotch.  I
lay there trapped beneath her, quite enjoying the sensation.

   "What happened?" I asked.

   "It felt like something was crawling on my behind!" she said, giggling
finally.

   "It was probably a weed," I said.  We lay there, laughing, till the
moment passed, then she rolled aside.  I rose to help her to her feet,
tangled as she was by her encircling panties.

   "Are you finished?" I asked?

   "Yes, but I think I peed all over myself in the process," she said.  She
reached for her clothing down around her knees.  "God yes!  My skirt and
panties are soaked," she giggled.

   I knelt in front of her and said, "Step out of these wet clothes, Julia,
we'll get some more out of the suitcase." All pretense of modesty was now
gone, and though I now felt very comfortable, I must admit I was a little
excited.  I slid Julia's shoes from her feet and then lowered her panties
and pantyhose over her legs.  I felt her hand on my bald head as she
balanced herself.  I noticed the dark spot on her knee, and said, "We need
to get that washed off, just a second."

   She followed me to the Cherokee, and stood nearby as the chilly air
nipped at her butt.  I reached into the Jeep and retrieved a bottle of
spring-water I had been sipping.  I took out my handkerchief and moistened
it, and knelt down and dabbed at her knee.  "I don't have any soap, but
this will have do till you can wash it." I opened the rear door, and the
dome light came on.  I put her suitcase in the back seat, and opened it up.
Right on top of the suitcase was a gray composition book.  Across the
front, in Julia's handwriting was the word, "Journal." I moved it aside and
soon found a stack of panties, all of them white and matronly.  I selected
a pair.  "Julia!" I said, "This suitcase is full of men's clothing!"

   "What?" she said in an agonized voice.

   "Just kidding," I said, "Sorry." I climbed out and bent to help her into
the panties.  I took repeated note that her naked legs and feet were quite
lovely and I felt an urge to long-stroke them, but of course, kept my place
as a humble servant.  However, even a humble servant has eyes, and I
refused, at this moment, to avert them.  As she raised the panties over her
hips, I glimpsed the dark triangle of hair between her thighs.

   "There should be a pair of camel colored slacks in the suitcase," she
said.  I climbed back into the Cherokee and found the pants.  I knelt down
in front of Julia and held her pants open for easy entry.  She stepped into
them as she held to the side of the Jeep for balance.  As she was closing
her side zipper, I noticed her shoes had been carried and dropped on the
ground beside her.  I knelt and put a shoe in front of her foot.  As she
lifted it, I laid the shoe aside, grasped her heel with one hand and dusted
the sole with the other.  I took the opportunity to wrap my fingers around
her toes, chilled from the night air.  "Your feet are cold, Julia."

   "I'm cold all over," she said.

   I held her foot in both my hands, rubbing and warming it, squeezing it
between my palms.

   "Oh that feels nice," she said, and I put her foot into her shoe.

   I dusted her other foot and held it a moment in my hands, sliding my
fingers under her arch and pressing, and warming her.  Then I slid her shoe
on her foot.  Then I stood and gathered her sopping garments and carried
them to the Jeep.  I found a plastic grocery bag under the seat and put the
clothes in and tied the bag tight.

   We settled ourselves in the wagon finally and I started the engine.  I
looked over at her and she smiled.  "Well, we became a little better
acquainted, didn't' we?" she said.

   "We certainly did."

   "Now that it's over with, I feel myself getting nervous."

   "Oh?" I said.

   "I know you won't, but I have to ask," she said.

   "What?"

   "Will you not tell Lillie about this?"

   "My lips are sealed.  You know that."

   "I know, it's just one more secret for you to keep, but."

   "I'm used to keeping secrets, Julia, it's a part of my job."

   "We'd better get started for Cincinnati," she said.

   As we drove, I thought of Julia's journal in her suitcase.  Were her
thoughts in there about the mistaken notion that I had felt her leg under
the table?  Had she detailed the kiss she had given me at her house, her
subsequent embarrassment?  What would she say about the events of this
night?  Then I thought of something.

   "Julia?  Do you know who Samuel Pepys was?"

   "Wasn't he an Englishman?  A writer?  Or a politician of some sort?"

   "Sort of," I said.  He lived about three hundred years ago."

   "I never was much for history," she said.

   "He kept a diary," I said.

   "Yes?"

   "It was a very detailed diary, about everything he did or thought.  He's
one of my favorite writers."

   "Yes?"

   "He was quite a ladies' man, even though he was married, tried to seduce
every woman he could."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah.  He was a high official in the British Navel Administration, and
he considered all the officer's wives and the under-worker's wives, to be
fair game.  You know, it was like, `If you want your husband to get this
recognition or that promotion, then be friendly to me.'"

   "That wasn't very nice," she said.

   "No, but it's fascinating." I said.  "Once he was out with a beautiful
woman, I think they were attending a play with another couple."

   "Yes?"

   "Well, in the middle of it, she was stricken with some kind of stomach
disorder.  It was all very embarrassing.  She had to visit the water closet
several times that night.  In the middle of the play, she was seized with
an overpowering urge to go, and he had to rush her to the toilet.  He
barely got her there on time."

   "Ha!  Sort of like my experience!" she said.

   "Yes, and he wrote it all down in his diary.  Every detail."

   "He did?"

   "Yeah, he said he was waiting outside the toilet for her."

   "Oh my, what a ridiculous farce, just like mine!" she said.

   "No, no, it wasn't a farce."

   "What do you mean?

   "Well, in the diary he said he waited outside for her, and the poor lady
went in and `did what she had to do.'"

   "Yes?"

   "Well, that's it.  Even in his diary, he was very understanding and
sympathetic toward her." I paused, and Julia was silent.  "He still thought
of her as a very beautiful and desirable person."

   I glanced over at her, and she was looking at me thoughtfully.  Several
minutes passed.

   "You are quite the gallant, did you know that Douglas?" she said.

   "Ah!  Think nothing of it.  It was my pleasure," I said.

   "Oh!  You took pleasure in all that, did you?" she teased.

   "Only in being your gallant servant, my Queen" I laughed.

   "Will you write it in your diary?" she said.

   "No, I don't keep a diary, will you write in yours?" I asked.  "I saw it
in your suitcase."

   "Yes, I suppose I will."

   "And how will I be described?"

   "Gallant," she said, a smile in her voice.  A long moment passed.  "If
you kept a diary, how would you describe me?"

   "Humm," I thought.  "I would say, `The poor lady did what she had to do.
It was embarrassing for her.but she's still as charming and attractive to
me as she has ever been.' How's that?"

   "And what would you have written about your lunch hour at my home the
other day?"

   Obviously, she was still uncertain about that, and probably confused
after what I just said.  "Ah. . .let me think.  I would say, "The sandwich
was delicious."

   Yes?  What else?"

   "That `I love Julia's homemade bread.'"

   "Come on!" she smiled

   I continued, "That, `even though I didn't touch her leg under the table,
I should have.'" She said nothing to this.  "That, `I shouldn't have told
her I didn't touch her.' That, `I shouldn't have left the house so
quickly.'" Again, she did not respond.  If she had, I might have stopped at
the Red Roof Inn.  My testosterone was fueling me onward and she must have
been aware of it.  In view of my former rebuff, she might very well have
been confused.

   The remainder of the trip was, understandably, a little uncomfortable.
Very little conversation ensued.  We made a stop at a Shell and she washed
while I filled up.  Then I washed and we picked up a couple of sandwiches
at Wendy's drive-through, and were back on the road.

   We pulled into the Quality Inn at 11:15 PM.  I checked at the desk and
found out our room numbers.  We drove around back to rooms 110 and 112, and
there was a light in both rooms.  I retrieved her sack of wet clothing and
her suitcase and we walked the few steps over to 112.  Thom's Grand
Cherokee was parked in front.  She knocked on the door and we waited, but
no one came.

   "Maybe they're both in our room," I said.  I went next door and knocked.
No answer.

   "Where could they be?" Julia asked.

   I remembered the festival last year.  "Probably with somebody else from
the motel.  That happens a lot.  You get acquainted with another couple,
walk around with them, ride in their car, go out and eat together.  We did
it last year," I assured her.

   She nodded.

   "I'll get a key the office and we'll wait for them," I said.  They
shouldn't be too much longer."

   She waited while I got the key to 110 and let us in.  It was a spacious
room, with a king sized bed in the middle, a sink alcove in the room
itself, and an enclosed shower and toilet off to the side.

   Julia sat down at the table, and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
Behind the closed door, I stood relieving myself, finished, and zipped up.
As I was about to flush the toilet, I heard the distinct sound from the
other side of the wall of a toilet lid, slamming down.  Then faintly, I
heard the flush of the toilet.  I stood there, with my hand poised over the
handle, thinking and drawing conclusions.  I waited a moment, then I
flushed.  I opened the door and came out.  I turned to the sink to wash my
hands.  I turned around toward Julia.  I looked to my left at the sealed
door, which connected the two rooms, wondering what was transpiring just on
the other side.

   Julia had turned on the television, and I sat down in the other chair,
and we watched the news.  My ears were perked to hear sounds from the other
room, but I detected none.  Twenty minutes later, a knock came at the front
door.  I got up and opened it, and there stood Thom and Lillie, smiling,
their jackets on.  Lillie was carrying a shopping bag.  Lillie kissed me
and said, "You finally made it!  Oh!  I wished you'd been here for the
dance qualifications and the Highland show, it was fabulous!  We just got
back!" She was overly animated, I thought.

   "You didn't drive to the park?" I asked Thom.  "I saw your car out
there." He looked confused.

   Lillie said, "No!  We hooked up with nice Kentucky couple and rode with
them.  You know, like we did last year!" she smiled.  I nodded and smiled.

   "How was your trip?" she asked

   "OK, but we're awfully tired.  I think we should've stayed home and left
early tomorrow morning."

   "Well, you can get to bed right away, things don't start till ten
o'clock anyway!  Look what I got!" she said, opening her shopping bag. 
Lillie seemed quite excited about everything.  She pulled out a wool plaid
muffler and put it around my neck.  "It's the McPherson Tartan!" She dug
into the shopping bag again and came out with another plaid muffler with a
different pattern.  "And this is the "Hargreaves Tartan!" she said, and put
it around Julia's neck.

   "They're beautiful!" Julia said.

   Thom was grinning.  He turned to Julia, "Well, we'd better get to bed,
dear!  I know you're tired.  He picked up Julia's suitcase and she picked
up the plastic bag with her soiled clothing.  In a moment, they were out of
our room.

   "When did you have time to shop?" I casually asked Lillie.

   "Oh the bagpipe band was late getting there, so we stepped out to the
booths right after the dance qualifications."

   I nodded.  "You got started early, didn't you?"

   "What?" her eyes popping.

   "Shopping, you got started shopping early." I repeated.

   "Oh yes.  I'm sorry you had to miss the bagpipes, but Thom really did
love them.  I think he's ready to buy a kilt and a set of bagpipes and
start taking lessons!" She laughed.

   As I watched Lillie undress, I began to know in my bones that she and
Thom had been fucking.  How could it have been that they had become
acquainted with a Kentucky couple so quickly?  They probably didn't get
here until a little after 8:00.  To make it at all, they would have had to
check in and leave immediately for the park.  And besides, they were
obviously in the room before we drove up.  How long before we arrived had
they been here?  Then it was about twenty minutes more after I heard the
toilet lid bang that they showed up.

   Lillie dropped her dirty clothes in her plastic bag, and walked naked
into the shower.  Her figure still gave the impression of a tall, willowy
woman.  Her breasts and hips had only slightly increased in size through
the years, and she had even developed a small but distinct belly,
compliments of our daughter.  She was still a very attractive middle-aged
woman, and I could see how Thom must have desired her.

   Since I had lusted for Thom's wife, I supposed I shouldn't be too upset
that he had fucked mine.  Yet, in spite of all that had happened I felt a
surge of jealousy course through me.  I had long suspected that jealousy
was a visceral phenomenon.  I believed that if most human beings ever began
to freely trade their spouses between them, they would soon discover in
themselves an animal urge to kill their spouses' lovers, and perhaps their
spouses.  I personally did not feel this strongly, but I knew plenty of
people who did.  I also wished very intensely, at that moment, that I had
taken Julia to bed.

   Lillie's shower water was loud against the sides of the plastic
enclosure.  I walked over to the sink alcove, picked up the plastic bag
containing her underclothing and opened it.  The musky breath of sex wafted
up to me.  I knew beyond doubt that Thom's semen and her own aroused fluids
had been mingled together.

   I undressed and made ready for my shower.  When Lillie came out of the
bathroom, steam poured into the alcove and she shivered a little.  She wore
a tan colored sheer nightgown and her nipples pressed against the thin
fabric.  Her chestnut hair was damp and when she smiled at me, she seemed
beautiful beyond belief.

   After my shower, I dried, and walked naked out into the alcove.  The
room was already dark and my wife was in bed.  I opened my suitcase and
picked up my pajamas.  I put one foot in, thought about it, and then kicked
them off and away from me.  I climbed naked into the large bed beside my
wife.  Her back was turned to me.  I moved silently up to her and nestled
her hips into my groin.  I pulled up her gown, ignoring her mild protests,
and exposed her nakedness to mine.  I slipped my erection effortlessly into
her and she grew silent.  I reached over her hips and spread her vulva and
found her clitoris and began roughly flicking it.  She immediately rammed
her buttocks back into me, taking me deeply.  I ground at her clitoris
unmercifully and she banged against me as if she were trying to hurt me. 
We found ourselves in a frenzy, grappling for release.  She came with a
guttural growl, low and powerful, articulating very plainly between her
clenched teeth, "Ahh!  Fuck!  God yes!  Fuck!" There was no sweetness here,
no tenderness, but when we climaxed, we came together and it was
undoubtedly the most physically satisfying sexual coupling we had ever
experienced together.





   Queen Julia Part 4

   We drove to Alt Park in separate vehicles the next day.  Lillie looked
over at me and smiled.  I thought of the odd smile with which she had
greeted me as I came awake that morning.  "You were wild, last night," she
had said, on her side, leaning on her elbow, one breast falling sweetly on
top of the other.

   "You were pretty well primed yourself," I said.

   "Why don't we just sleep till noon?"

   "Are you really all that sleepy?"

   "No, that's not what I had in mind," she said, and cupped at my crotch
and held her body close to mine.

   I'd love a repeat, darling, but we'll need to go to breakfast, and I'm
anxious to see "Golden Leg."

   "Yeah, you're right."

   We had breakfast with the Hargreaves at a nearby restaurant, and then
decided to each take our cars in case someone needed to return the motel
before the others were ready.  Things seemed quite relaxed with Julia and
Thom, and Lillie acted as though nothing had happened out of the ordinary.
We parked our cars quite a distance from the main entrance of the festival
grounds and walked, and climbed the hills in the autumn sun till finally we
came to the gate.  As we entered, I noticed an easel set up along the main
sidewalk with a heavy placard, listing the events for the day.  At 11:00 AM
the scheduled Irish Band, "Golden Leg" was to play at the large tent.  The
"Postponed Toronto Highlanders," the noshow band of the night before, had
been "Rescheduled" to perform in the field a half mile away.  When I read
that statement, I looked at Lillie, who looked back at me.  She knew I
knew. I smiled, and she looked away.  I didn't think Julia and Thom were
informed enough about the program to notice.

   We all walked slowly across the grass to the great tent and found seats
8 or 10 rows from the front.  I sat at the center isle, then Lillie, then
Thom and Julia.  As we waited for Golden Leg to assemble I could hear the
bag pipes very faintly from a half-mile away.  I leaned into my wife and
put my hand on her thigh squeezing it lightly.  I spoke softly into her
ear, "Lillie, those are your bagpipers.  I know you like them better than
the Irish music.  You love them.  Why don't you leave now and walk over
that way?  Take Thom with you, he'll like them too.  You don't have to
endure this because of me."

   She drew back and looked at me with wide eyes, obviously mystified.

   "It's OK darling, go ahead," I said, and winked at her and smiled.  "I'd
like for Julia to see Golden Leg.  We'll be fine.  We'll meet up with you
after lunch."

   Lillie inspected my face, searching my eyes.

   Then, without answering me, she leaned over to Thom, cupped her hand
around his ear and whispered into it.  Somehow, that gesture, so small and
innocent in itself, seemed to be the breakpoint at which I faced the
reality of Lillie's adultery.  Last night, I had slid smoothly through
Tom's diluted residue into my wife.  If anything, the fresh illicitness of
their coupling was a catalyst to our own furious arousal.  Yet, this
ordinary tableau, the edge of her hand against his face, the closeness of
her lips to his ear, the sharing of something unheard by me, all of these
innocent signals of intimacy came near to undoing me.  Thom returned her
familiarity by whispering to her.  Lillie and Thom then stood up, and I
shifted my body at an angle and my best friend and my wife brushed my knees
as they made their way past me.  Two chairs were between Julia and me.

   "Julia," I said, "Come sit here," I motioned her to the seat beside me.

   "What's going on?" she said as she sat.

   "Oh, Lillie wants to take in a bag-pipe program, she can't get enough. I
love this Irish music, can't stand all of that shrill stuff.  I told her to
take Thom with her since he seemed to enjoy it last night.  You don't mind,
do you?"

   Julia smiled, "No, I don't mind."

   Suddenly Golden Leg started a lively Irish reel.  There were two
fiddles, a bodhran, a bouzoukhi, a mandolin, a wooden flute, a
penny-whistle, a guitar, a harp and uilleann pipes A woman, about 30 years
old, was playing the fiddle.  She was barefoot and danced about at the edge
of the stage.  It was an exciting beginning, the instruments being played
flat-out together with the others, then each had its solo.  I was anxious
Julia would not like it, but I looked down at her foot, and she was patting
away, her head bobbing along as well.  The band alternated between fast and
slow tunes, wringing and then smoothing our emotions.  About an hour into
the program they came to a tune featuring the Celtic harp called "Eleanor
Plunkett." It was an absolutely lovely melody, slow and moving.

   Unexpectedly, the uilleann pipes took over the melody from the harp, and
the bouzoukhi and fiddle filled the background with their mellow tones. 
Such a tune, with this melancholy instrumentation, goes straight to my
heart and it brought tears to my eyes.  I wiped them with the back of my
fingers, and then laid my hand down in my lap.  Julia reached for it and
took it into her lap.  I looked at her, and she was smiling at me, the
tears brimming her own eyes.  I looked down at her lovely hand with its
fingers curved around my own, her pale thumb, feeling the hairs on the back
of my hand.  The image of her hands and mine together were so unfamiliar,
so strange.  Her fingernails moved gently at the sensitive center of my
palm.  When the melody ended, she squeezed my hand gently.

   As the last note of "Eleanor Plunkett" died away, a lively beat rose on
the bodrhan.  At first it seemed carry the somber force of a military
dirge. Then one by one the instruments joined in.  Before long, the mood
brightened and we were into march-time.  Then the band began to flick at
the last beat of every measure and turned it into a strut.  It was
"Gillikranke," a tune to heat the blood.  The fiddler was now dancing
around the stage, her bare feet pounding the floor, yelping at uneven
intervals.  Periodically, old men would stand were they were and dance in
front of their seat, hooting as they did.  Then an old woman danced out
into the center isle, near the front, stamping the straw with all her
strength.

   Suddenly, the whole audience rose to its feet, most clapping, and
several dancing.  The girl laid her fiddle aside and jumped from the stage
to the ground below.  She lifted her long gray skirt above her knees and
began dancing.  The audience dancers faded back.  The beat swaggered on,
increasing in tempo.  The woman danced down the isle, headed toward us,
flailing the onlookers with her skirt.  Her dress was cut low.  I would
have described it as a peasant dress with a cord laced loosely through the
edge of the neckline.  Her breasts were unfettered by a bra and as she
danced they moved seductively under the gray fabric.  I pulled Julia in
front of me to allow her an unobstructed view.  The girl was tossing her
head, lifting her chin in sharp time to the tune.  Now she was beside us.
We could see the sweat on the tops of her moving breasts, and her eyes were
absolutely hot.  Julia gripped my hand tightly and leaned back toward me. I
felt her buttocks brush against my pelvis, and she stayed close until the
girl danced her way back up the isle and onto the stage.  The audience sat
down and the tune ended with uproarious applause.  Julia was smiling and
looked at me, smiled and said, "Whew," and fanned her face with her hand.

   I leaned toward her.  "You like it?"

   "I love it, but I am utterly exhausted!"

   "Come with me," I said, and took her hand.  I led her down the center
isle to the back of the tent and out onto the lawn.

   "Are you hungry?  " I asked, looking at my watch.  It was 12:30.

   "A little," she said.

   "I know a place, let's go." We walked the long distance over hills and
around the bends.  I held Julia's hand most of the way back to my Cherokee,
and unlocked the door for her.  "Are you too tired to ride in this thing
again?"

   "No, I'm OK," she laughed, "It'll be a relief to get off my feet.

   We drove to the downtown Skyline Chile restaurant and ordered a
"five-way" combination, including onions.  We talked of the music and of
the programs coming later in the day.  It was a heavy meal.  After we
finished, I said, "Well, are you ready to go back?"

   "I guess so," she said, her eyes drooping.

   "Julia, you are completely worn out!" We stood up and walked to the
door.

   "I guess the trip just got to me," she said lazily.

   "I'll take you back to your room," I said as I held the car door open
for her.

   "Oh no!  That's OK!  Let's go back to the park!"

   "Nope, I could use the rest myself." I said.  We drove to the motel in a
relaxed silence.

   I opened the car door for her, and she climbed out.  We walked to 112,
and she opened her purse.  "Oh," she laughed, "Thom's got the key!"

   I knew we could get a key at the desk but I didn't mention it.  "Come on
to my room, you can stretch out there."

   I opened the door to the room, and of course the maids had been in and
everything was fresh and clean.  "How long do you want to nap?" I asked as
I pulled the spread and top sheet away for her.

   She looked at me quizzically as she sat down on the bed and said, "Are
we sure this is OK?"

   "This is just fine," I said.  I stooped and took the shoes from her
stocking feet.  Then I lifted her feet into the bed and she stretched out.
She had dressed in dark brown tweed slacks that day and I pulled the sheet
up over them.

   I drew up a chair close to the bed, took off my shoes and put my feet on
the bed, my ankles crossed near where her feet lay.  I folded my hands
across my stomach and shut my eyes.

   "Douglas?" she said.

   "Yes?"

   "I have to tinkle."

   I laughed, took my feet from the bed, scooted my chair back, and helped
her out of the bed.  She padded past me in her stocking feet to the
bathroom.  In a few moments she came out, washed her hands, splashed some
water on her face, dried, and came back to sit on the bed.  "My feet hurt,"
she said.

   "No problem," I said, and I sat beside her, patted my lap and said,
"Put'em right here.

   She lay back on the pillow and shifted her stocking feet to my lap.  I
gripped one of them with both my hands and began squeezing.  "Oh yes!" she
said.

   "How's your knee?" I asked, flexing her toes.  "Oh Wonderful!" she said.
"It hurts."

   I stopped.  "What?"

   She laughed, "The knee hurts, the feet are wonderful."

   Am I rubbing too hard?"

   "No, it's heaven."

   "Can I take your socks off?" I asked.

   "Sure, but what if your wife comes in and you have my naked feet in your
hands?"

   I ignored her question and stripped off the socks, and looked admiringly
at her feet.  The painted nails were perfect.  The skin was creamy and soft
and there were faint pink impressions around them where her loafers had
left indentations.  I pressed the lines with my thumb, stroking over them,
as if to iron them out of her skin.  "Ummm," she said.

   "Speaking of naked feet, you know that you're twisting me mentally,
don't you?" I said.

   "Really, how?"

   "Well, I fear I'm developing a fetish on your feet," I said, squeezing
them.

   "Don't you pick those up in childhood?"

   "What feet?  Yes, when you're a little baby they issue them."

   She laughed and kicked my hand gently, then put her feet back into my
hands.  "I love your hands," she said.

   "Ah!  Now look who has the fetish!" I said.  Then, unable to resist, I
stroked her calf all the way up to the back of her knee.

   She jumped, "Careful, darling, that's the sore knee." The endearment was
not lost on me.

   I moved just above the bend of her knee and kneaded it very gently.  I
reached over to the other leg and massaged in the same spot there.

   "Douglas?  What if they come back and see us here?"

   "Julia!  I'm just rubbing your feet!" I said.

   "All the way up to my thighs?" she asked.

   I brought my hands around, just above the knee and moved up high onto
her thigh, pulsing there very gently with my hand over her tweeds.

   "Douglas!" she said, shifting forward and putting her hands on mine,
glancing nervously at the door.

   I laughed, "Julia, if this is OK with you, don't worry about Thom and
Lillie.  I told them we'd see them this afternoon sometime.  They're
probably chowing down on some haggis right now!"

   "What's haggis?" she asked.

   "Some kind of repulsive Scottish meatpie." I said.

   She was silent for awhile, but she relaxed, obviously enjoying my hand
on the soft part of her inner thigh.

   "Douglas?" she asked, "What did you mean, `if this is OK with me?'" she
asked, "and what makes it OK?" she asked.

   I slid a hand along the outside of her thigh and up on to her hip where
I kneaded the softness.  "I mean, if it's all right with you that I touch
you, then it's fine, because they're not coming back here anytime soon."

   "Douglas, you know it was all right with me at first.  I wanted you. 
But you backed away from me," she said, putting her hand over mine and
stopping my massage.

   "Yes, but I know you better now," I said.  "I fell in love with you when
I saw you pee."

   "Douglas!"

   "Or maybe it was when you fell on top of me," I said.

   She giggled and I pushed her feet off my lap and I drew her up next to
me.  She came to me naturally, softly and fully, her breasts pressing
against me.  When I kissed her, her lips were tender, but remained primly
close.  I flicked the tip of my tongue on her lower lip, and she drew back,
and studied me with her eyes.

   "I've never tongue kissed," she said.

   This was not a strange response to me, though it probably would be to
younger generations.  Many people Julia's age, with her peculiar
southern-mid-westculture, might well have never experienced deep kissing.
Obviously this was true of her, though less true of myself.

   "Julia, I'm sorry, did I offend you?"

   She answered me by putting both knees up onto the bed, gripping the
collar of my sport shirt and pulling my lips into hers.  I could feel her
excitement, something akin to a virginal experience.  She delicately tapped
at my lips with her tongue tip.  When I responded with my own tongue,
feeling her slickness, I sensed the newness of the adventure and it
electrified us both.  She seemed to consume the whole inside of my mouth,
lapping and thrusting greedily with her tongue and whimpering as she did.

   She pulled back from me, her mouth shut, her smile twitching at its
corners.  She gathered the pillows together, fashioned them into a chaise,
and leaning back, relaxed.  "You know what?" she finally said, "All my life
it's been like I was in a river.  You know, waist deep in a river?"

   "How is that?"

   She said, "I mean, it was like down below the surface, things were going
on, but we didn't see them.  We didn't talk about them.  It was as if they
didn't exist.  Sex was almost like--going to the bathroom.  You had to do
it, but the less reference you made to it, the better, you just kept it
under the surface."

   "Well, at this point you seem to be pretty well out of the water!" I
cracked.

   "Yes, I am, aren't I?  I am with you," she said, triumphantly.  I slid
nearer and put my hand on her breast, feeling its weight, gathering it into
my hands and cupping it as she watched and smiled.  She looked back into my
eyes.  "I remember when I was a little girl," she said, "I had heard
somewhere, I don't remember where, that babies came from a mother's
stomach. I was at my Grandmother's, and I don't know why, but I just spoke
it out." Julia cocked her head to the side, assumed a child's open
expression and said, "Daddies put babies right into mommies' tummies!" She
spoke like a little girl with a high voice, and I laughed.

   "Grandmother said, `Julia!  Don't ever say such things!  That's nasty!'
and then she slapped my mouth.  Oh, it hurt!" Julia put her hand to her
face and frowned.  "I never forgot that." She was rubbing her cheek.  "I
cried so much, but I learned never to ever mention sex again," she said.

   I bent to unbutton her blouse, and she watched my fingers, then glancing
up at me when she spoke.

   "Thom was raised a lot the same way," she said.  "He doesn't like to
talk about sex."

   I thought to myself, It doesn't seem to keep him out of my wife's pants,
but of course, I didn't say that.  "You know what Julia?  Sometimes, when
our parents are so frantic to guard us against certain things, and so
terrified we will do those things, it makes us fix on the very things
they're trying to keep from us."

   "Yes, yes!  That's right.  I couldn't get it out of my mind!  Doug, I
have the most obscene fantasies, yet I've never been able to bring myself
to do them.  And when I do have sex, I keep thinking, `Oh!  This is nasty!"


   I peeled back her blouse, reached and unsnapped the hooks to her bra,
and pulled the straps off her shoulders.  I lowered the bra away from her
full breasts.  The nipples were large and pink.  I took them into either
hand and gently squeezed them.

   "Julia?  Do you think what we're doing is nasty?" I said.  I was curious
about her answer.  I looked at her and saw that eyes were closed, her head
was moving about, as I pressed on her breasts.

   "Oh God, it's so nasty!" she said, thrusting her breasts out toward me.

   I lowered my head and lifted a breast to my lips and sucked noisily.

   "Oh Douglas, I love it!"

   "Do you really think it's nasty, Julia?"

   "No, I know it's not, Doug, but it feels nasty.  It feels good." As I
handled her breasts, she began to move her shoulders rotating them and
swaying slightly from side to side.  "Ummm, darling."

   I straightened up and moved my hands to her sides, and stroked them,
down to her waist.  The sharp indention I always felt on Lillie was not
there, only a gentle inward slope, but beautiful, yielding and soft.  My
fingers came to the waistband of her pants.

   "Julia, would you stand up a minute."

   She did, running her soft hands over her breasts and across her upper
belly.

   "I want." I said, and she hooked her thumbs in her waistband and tugged
firmly and the slacks came down.  Underneath were white panties, exactly
the kind I had put on her at the gas station.  I shifted and moved her in
front of me so that she was now facing me, standing between my knees.  I
was at the edge of the bed and quite close to her.  I pulled at the
waistband of the panties and brought them down.  I could see that the
rounded stomach had never known the rigors of a pregnancy.  It was smooth
and white, without the stretch marks that inscribed a mother.  Perhaps that
was the reason her legs were free from the prominent blue surface veins of
most women her age.  I pulled the panties all the way to her knees, then I
buried my face in her belly, rolling from side to side, licking it,
stroking her hips, reaching behind her and spreading her buttocks and
kneading the soft flesh.

   "Oh God, Douglas!  Oh God!" she murmured.

   I pulled my face away, and looked up at her and her head was hanging
down, face slack, and she was breathing through her barely parted lips.

   "Julia?"

   "Humm?"

   "You know what I said about your being a queen?" I lightly stroked her
buttocks again.

   She giggled and lifted her head a little.  "Yes." I was now at the back
of her thighs and going down, and she was purring.  Her head was up, but
her eyes were still closed.

   "I meant that you move like a queen.  You carry yourself with a calm
kind of attitude.  You're always in control, always serene.  It's lovely."

   She now opened her eyes and looked at me, smiling slightly.  "But you,
of all people, should know I'm not that serene.  I wasn't very serene at
that gas station last night.  I'm not very calm right now."

   "Yes," I said, massaging an inner thigh, then switching to the other.  I
had not yet touched her sex.  "But that's the thing of it, Julia!  It's the
idea that the Queen opens herself up to me." I inched toward her pubis. 
"The Queen, deigns to favor me, the Queen nods, and smiles on me." I felt
the tickle of pubic hair on my fingers.  "That's why I adore you, Julia." I
pressed at her vulva, and she murmured something unintelligible.

   I stood, my hand cupped between her legs and moved my face to hers.  Her
right arm came up and around my neck, and she kissed me softly, her lips
barely together.  She moved her pubis against my hand like a slow delayed
heartbeat.  I parted her opening and found her wet vagina.  My fingers
moved inside her.  I pulled easily away from her mouth and her head lolled
back.  Her soft throat was exposed to me, welcoming me.  I moved my mouth
into the tender flesh, kissing her lightly.  I touched her clitoris with my
fingers gently, wetting the area around it with the fluid from her vagina.
She groaned against me, now thrusting her hips strongly into my hand,
almost growling as she did.

   "Oh Douglas please, please!" she said.

   I shifted and pivoted her around to the bed and she sat down.  I knelt
in front of her and slid her pants and underclothing away.  I lowered her
back on to the pillow, lifting her feet into the bed and she lay naked. 
She caressed a breast and watched my face through lazy eyes as I undressed.


   I stood straight and found that she was looking slightly away from me. I
took her hand and guided it toward my penis.  She touched it lightly,
running her fingers along its length, but never closing them.  She paused
just a moment, looking into my face, only intermittently looking at my
penis.  Then she began a strange caress.  I saw and felt her beautiful
fingers tapping at my foreskin, moving it as she did, very slightly over
the wetness of my glans.  I felt the edges of her nails on me.  I did not
want to move at this moment, fascinated as I was with the cautious contact
below.  She was nudging at my skin-covered tip, like a kitten plays with a
ball.  It was picture I have laid away carefully in my mind, and I take it
out and look at it, frequently.

   As Julia played, an old memory swam up slowly up to the present.  I was
a child, and I was in a large theater watching an animated feature.  On the
screen, a little girl stood at the entrance of a great mansion.  She was
obviously afraid of what might be behind the door.  In a remote "roof shot"
the camera fixed on the cornice of the door.  Then, in exaggerated
perspective, narrowing as it went; it focused all the way down, down to the
small timid girl on the doorstep who was, nevertheless, lifting a brave
tiny hand to knock on the massive towering door.

   My penis was not towering or massive, but it was solid, and it was
ready. Again Julia's tiny fingertips tapped warily.  "I love that, Julia,"
I said.

   "What is that?" she said, "It feels so lovely." Her eyes glanced at the
foreskin quickly, then flashed up to me.  Obviously, Thom was circumcised.

   "I'm not circumcised, Julia." I could see she was forcing her eyes to
lower, and to look.  "Go ahead, look."

   She laughed nervously.  "No, let me just feel it." She held it still
with her fingertips.

   I looked down at the spectacle again, then back to her.  Here eyes held
mine.  Her cheeks were red.  I smiled at her.

   Her eyes registered my understanding, and she smiled back.  Then she
tried again.  Finally, she was gazing fully at my sex, nudging and
squeezing around the foreskin.  She ended her play by taking me fully into
her hand and peeling the skin back over the penis head.  She looked up at
me and grinned.

   "Would you lie back, Julia?" I asked, and she did.

   I climbed over her and lay on my right side and she turned toward me.  I
covered her vulva with my hand and pressed firmly.  The tissues were wet
and yielding.  She groaned deeply and I knew she was ready.  I lifted her
left knee as high as was comfortable to her.  I slid in on top of that leg
and she lifted her other leg over me.  I was supporting my upper-body
weight by my elbow.  I took my hand from her crotch and grasped her hand
and guided it to my penis.  When she touched it, she purred, "Ummm." She
took me fully into her hand, stroking me strongly.  She brushed her vulva
with my penis as I hovered there.  Suddenly she dug it into her, gouging it
haphazardly against her clitoris.  I felt the coarse hair scratch at the
membrane of my glans.  Then she slid it down, just above her vagina,
touching the slick open expanse between her spread labia.  I felt her
against me, slippery and hot.

   "Is that nasty, Julia?"

   "Oh yes!  No it's not!  Please Douglas!"

   I raised my hips and pushed, feeling myself slipping between her
fingers, sliding toward her opening.  She drew both thighs up even higher
and I plunged into her softness.  I felt her consume me, swallowing me into
her body, again and again.  It was if her belly, her breasts, her mouth,
her whole being were taking me in.  I felt as though I was making love, not
too just a woman, but to "the" woman.  I was a ship with my keel deep in an
undulating ocean.  I was where I was meant to be.

   "Oh God, Julia!" My pleasure shot out hot through its tiny opening.  My
flow into her was strong and long.  Her own pleasure seemed to come back at
me with a jar, shuddering me; and draining away my strength.

   At 3:30 PM, I woke.  Julia and I had not moved from our embrace.  Her
lovely legs were still around me.  My penis had slipped from her body, but
lay nestled sweetly and wetly on the pillow of her vulva.  I ran my hand
over the smooth flesh of her leg and onto her buttocks, feeling its
generous dimensions.

   "Big, isn't it?" she said.

   "I love it." I said, and I filled my hand with her and squeezed gently.

   "You could teach me a lot, couldn't you?" she smiled.

   "Oh no, I don't know everything, far from it.  I just know what I like
and I want to know what you like.  But I wouldn't teach you anything you
didn't want to learn."

   "Oh, I want to learn anything you'll teach me.  Just be patient with me.
The river is really deep in some places."

   "Yes, I suppose, it is."

   After a long pause, she said, "I've never . . .  sucked before."

   "Yes?"

   "I've seen some movies where a beautiful young woman is kissing a
muscular young man, and she begins to kiss him." Julia smacked me on the
lips.  "He is on his back and she comes down his chest." She scraped her
nails lightly over my chest.  "She comes down, lower and lower.  They never
show it, of course, but you can see her hair moving and you know she's
sucking.  I wonder how they do that, you know, with the big stars."

   "Yeah, I wonder too, but maybe they don't.  Maybe they're just close. 
You know, just a part of the script, just acting.'"

   "There are movies you can rent that show the whole thing," she said.

   "Yes.  Have you seen any?" I said.

   "No, I couldn't bring myself to rent them.  Have you seen any?"

   "Yes, I must confess I have."

   "Are they fun to watch?" she asked.

   "Ummm, sometimes, but they can actually be quite boring."

   "Boring?"

   "Yes.  Now, what you and I did, that was not boring.  At least it wasn't
boring to me!  They don't have half the fun or pleasure in those movies
that you and I just had, Julia."

   "But aren't the girls pretty?" she said.

   "I suppose, but they couldn't be half so sexy as you've been with me."

   "Now you're patronizing me!" she said.

   "No, I'm telling you the truth!"

   "But I'm old!"

   "No older than I am." I said.

   "I'm not as old as you!" she said laughing and pushed me back.

   I lay for awhile silent and then said, "Julia?"

   "Yes?"

   "I have to tinkle." I slipped quickly out of bed, and sprinted to the
bathroom as Julia laughed.



   Queen Julia Part 5

   When I came back into the room, Julia was in the bed, covered with the
sheet and smiling.  I slipped on my shorts and pants then pulled a chair
close and crossed my ankles on the bed, my bare feet touching and caressing
her covered ones.

   "Douglas?" she asked, "How do you feel about me?"

   "I adore you." How do you feel about me?

   "I adore you," she said.  I like the word." She nudged me with her foot
through the sheet, pausing, thinking.  "Why did you change your mind,
Douglas?"

   "Julia, when you had me come to your home, and you opened up to me, and
you showed me your pictures, and you talked to me the way you did, I wanted
you then.  I've always thought Julia.I know I've said it before, but I
really do mean it, I have always thought of you as.well, as a kind of
royalty.  I supposed it's that `I'm-in-control-andall-is-well-look' on your
face.  The way your carry yourself, and the way you deal with people . . .
Julia, you have an elegance about you.  You're so gracious and . . ." I
could not go on, nothing was left but a sigh.

   Julia was blushing, but it was the truth as I perceived it, and I think
she knew that.  Her eyes stared out over the room, not looking directly at
me.

   "Julia, I had to fight to keep from giving in that day at your house,
especially when you kissed me.  And then, you opened your heart to me." She
smiled, and glanced up at me, then looked away, still smiling.  "The one
thing that kept me from giving in was Lillie.  At that time I felt as if I
needed to keep her trust."

   "But now?" she asked.  Her intuition and intelligence were now on the
prowl.  The smile was gone from her face, and her eyes were back on mine.

   "Now?  Now, I have found I don't need to keep her trust."

   "Yes?"

   "I think she'd like to have others in her life besides me," I said,
dreading this moment.

   "My husband is fucking her," Julia said flatly.

   I expelled a long slow breath, "You know?"

   "Now I do," she said.  "I felt something was up since this morning, at
the sign.  That band that was postponed, wasn't that the group that she and
Thom were supposed to have enjoyed so much last night?"

   "Yes, it was, I didn't think you noticed it." I looked at her carefully,
trying to gage the effect.  "How do you feel about it?"

   "Well, if you had given in to me that day at the house, Lillie might be
asking the same question of Thom," she said.  "So, I guess I can't feel too
hurt about it."

   "Same here," I said, "but what about him, how will he feel?"

   "Gosh, I don't know!" Julia said, "How will Lillie feel?"

   "She won't feel about him the way I feel about you, I don't think." I
wondered if Lillie's personality afforded anything more than an exciting
sexual adventure, maybe.  "Let me ask you something, Julia.  After he's had
sex with Lillie, do you feel you can ever be intimate with him again?"

   Julia laughed.  "That's not the question, Douglas.  We haven't had sex
in so long, I'm surprised I remembered how!"

   "Oh, you remembered how, I assure you.  But, seriously, if he were to
come into your bed tomorrow and make a move on you, how would you react?" I
pulled my feet off the bed onto the floor and leaned forward, my elbows on
my knees.

   Julia grinned, but said nothing.

   I rose from my chair and went to the side of the bed, close by where she
lay.  I knelt by her and put my elbows up on the bed, and looked up at her.
She threw all but a single pillow aside and slid down, resting her head on
it so that she was looking up at my face.  She was still grinning.  A long
moment passed.

   "Julia, answer me!" I said, I leaned forward and looked down into her
eyes, quite close to her face.

   "I would teach him how to tongue kiss," she said, and giggled.

   "Now that is an answer I would like to explore with you!" I said.

   "Yes?"

   "But if we grab something to eat, meet that `other couple' and hear any
more music tonight, we'll have to get ready now."



   I had wondered where we might see our spouses next.  Would they pound on
the door as we had done to them?  And if they did, would we not answer the
door, as they had done to us?  Would we sit down around a table and talk
about this situation?  Surely some understanding of what had occurred was
called for.  Would there be demands?  Would there be any rules?  Would
Lillie continue to work with Julia?  How would Thom feel toward me?



   At 8:15 PM Julia and I walked into the great tent and sat in the back
listening to the mellow tones of Andy Irvine, the talented Irish singer,
who played a srange-looking bouzoukhi, cut like a guitar.  The bouzoukhi
was ordinarily shaped like an oversized mandolin and tuned the same way. 
It's tones were not shrill like the mandolin, quite melancholy and
therefore, very Irish, even though it was a Greek instrument.  Julia and I
sat on the last row, the only people sitting that far back.  Her arm was in
mine and our fingers were interlaced, hands resting on my leg.  It was a
chilly September night, and her warmth against me was very comforting,
almost euphoric, especially with Andy's spell floating out over the
audience.

   Lillie and Thom came in from the back, easily detecting our affectionate
posture.  They excused themselves brushed passed us, and sat down, Thom
between Julia and Lillie.  I held fast to Julia's hand, wondering what
impression we were making.  Each of them looked pleasant and whispered,
"Hi." They were obviously not surprised to see us close, nor did they seem
troubled.

   After the concert, we all walked slowly out of the tent.  The air was
suddenly chilly and we stopped and formed a tight circle.  Lillie said,
"Did you guys have a nice time today?"

   "Very nice," I said, "and you?" The conversation was very stiff, quite
cautious.

   "We had a wonderful afternoon," Lillie said, "We went downtown to a nice
restaurant for dinner and toured around Cincinnati and then back here."

   "Ah!  Sounds like fun!" I said.  An uncomfortable silence passed.  I
asked, "Well, what shall we do tonight?"

   "Well, Thom and I are pretty well worn out from our day together, and
I'm sure you are too.  Don't you think we should go back to the motel now,
and we'll meet Thom and Julia for breakfast?  We have another big day
tomorrow!"

   "That OK with you two?" I asked them.

   "Sure," said Thom, grinning.

   "Julia?" I asked.

   "Yes, I think I'd like that," she said, taking Thom's arm, standing
close to him.



   That night, as Lillie and I entered our room, we each went to our
customary sides of the bed.  With our suitcases opened, we fished out the
sleeping attire, took off our clothing and disposed of it in the plastic
bag.  I put mine in on top of Lillie's.  "Where's your bag?  I packed one
for you," she asked.

   "Yeah, well, Julia needed a laundry bag and I gave her mine." Not
wanting to pursue that line of conversation, I quickly entered the bathroom
with my maroon pajamas under my arm.  I took a quick shower dried and put
on my pajamas.  They were the acetate kind, very slippery and comfortable.
When I returned, Lillie was already in her gown, in bed, and covered up to
her waist.

   "Aren't you going to take a shower?" I asked.

   "No, I had one just before the concert tonight," Lillie said.

   If she had, she had not taken her shower here.  Julia's and my
almost-dry towels were across the racks when we came in.

   I nodded, turned back the covers and slipped under the sheet.  I then
remembered that the bed had not been changed since Julia and I had occupied
it earlier that day.  Julia had insisted we straighten the bed, but of
course the signs and perhaps the smells of our adventures were still there.


   If they were Lillie didn't mention it.  She reached to the bedside table
and switched off the lamp.  We both lay on our backs, silent.

   Then Lillie shifted over next to me, lifting her right leg and throwing
it over mine.  She ran her hand into the fly of my pajama's and took hold
of my penis caressing it.  Then, just holding it, she said, "My, you're
quite relaxed tonight!"

   "Yes, I suppose so, it's been a big day."

   She sniffed, "Umm, I'll bet it has!" She began stroking me again.  "I
wonder if Thom is having the same trouble you are tonight?"

   "Oh, I wouldn't call it trouble."

   "Why not?" she challenged.

   "For the same reason a man can't eat another bite when he's already
stuffed himself with a sixteen ounce steak."

   "Well now!  There's an ingenious way to explain why you can't get it
up!" and she giggled, playfully.  This was a game of repartee, not sarcasm.


   "So why would you wonder about Thom?" I asked.

   "You know why!  You've known since you came arrived last night!" she
said.

   "You want to tell me about it?" I asked.

   "Of course not," she said.

   "Do you want me to tell you about my day?" I asked.

   "Of course not."

   I nodded my head in the dark, "Are we OK?"

   "Of course we are," she said, squeezing my penis.

   "Is all this over?  You know, with them?" I asked her.

   "Is it?" she asked.

   I pulled her to me and kissed her.  She opened her lips and kissed me
back, long and deep.  We fell asleep with her head on my arm and my penis
in her hand.



   Queen Julia Part 6

   I woke up at 9:00 the next morning.  Lillie was not in bed.

   I staggered to the bathroom and found it empty.  I urinated, swaying
over the toilet like I had been drugged.  I washed my hands and face and
dried myself with the yesterday's used towel.  I came back out to the sink,
retrieved my toothbrush and scrubbed thoroughly, enjoying the sensation.

   I really was not surprised to find Lillie up and out already.  Once a
thing is on her mind, she is like a dog on a red bone.  She may act too
quickly, but she can never be accused of not acting.  What was her red
bone? Thom.  Sex.  Doing something with Thom.  Thom Hargreaves was an
ex-marine.  It is true, that he passed some pretty tame years as a marine,
too late for the Korean war, and too early for Viet Nam.  Yet, during those
years he stood strong and ready to go.  With his comrades in the corps, he
probably kept people like me safe.  A short man, Thom had gained a lot of
weight over his thirty years of marriage.  His accumulated amplitude gave
him a fun-house-mirror width.  However, a year ago, he began a high protein
diet and workout program, intent on handsomeness, health, and hardness. 
Lately, when I shook his hand I felt a firmness I had not noticed before. I
always use a Lyndon Johnson grip when I shake hands with a good friend.  I
bring my left hand around to grasp the tricep while I shake with my right
hand.  Lately, his arm had felt like iron.  Though he never admitted it,
Thom had either gone to a tanning salon, or had flown back and forth to
Florida every three days, for his exposed flesh was golden, and I presume
his unexposed flesh too.  His pencil-line mustache and the touch of gray at
his temples had given him a compact Brian Dunlevy kind of bearing.  I was
not surprised at Lillie's attraction to him.

   I rinsed my mouth, relishing the freshness, and turned to see the room
with clearer eyes.  Lillie's suitcase was gone, and all her things,
including the plastic bag with my dirty underwear, were missing.  I puzzled
over this while I dressed hurriedly.  I threw on a jacket and went next
door to 112 and knocked.  I noticed that Thom's Jeep was gone.  Julia came
to the door in a robe.  A shower-fresh steaminess floated out to me.  Her
hair was combed and her eyes were clear, so she'd been awake for awhile.

   "Where is everybody?" I asked.

   "I don't know Doug.  They shouldn't have left us without telling us!"
She was obviously annoyed.  "Douglas, all this intramural activity is
producing some odd feelings in me.  I don't like this sneaking around. 
This is all so new to me, I don't know whether I can deal with it or not."

   I pulled her close and held her.  She just stood against me for a
moment. Then her arms came around my waist and we stood there swaying in
each other's arms.

   "You know, Julia, we could break this thing off between you and me, but
we don't know what they're going to do, or even how they feel right now. 
Maybe what we need is a little communication.  Let's take a step at a time
and see where it takes us.  One thing we all seem to be agreed on is that
each couple wants to stay married.  Let's keep that as an anchor.  Besides,
what have they done?  They've gone off somewhere without telling us.  They
just want to be together with each other.  I want to be together with you.
Is that so bad?" I let my hand trace large circles on her back, and drift
down just below her waist.

   "Yes, I guess so." She nestled her head on my chest.  "It's strange,
Douglas, it isn't the sexual part that's bothers me." She took a deep
breath and exhaled a long sigh.  "You know what is?  It's the little
things. Thom just goes off with someone else without even telling me.  It's
as if he's given up on our relationship."

   "Well, I think that'll have to be the first item we talk about, don't
you?

   She nodded her head.

   "You know what?"

   "What?"

   "I had the same kind of feeling as you.  You know, about the small
things."

   "Yes?"

   "That morning at the tent, I was doublecertain Lillie and Thom had been
together but I had come to terms with it.  I was the one that suggested
they go off together to hear the pipe band!  But when she leaned over and
whispered in Thom's ear, I almost came unglued!  I can't explain it, but
just her whispering in his ear really got to me!  Now can you explain
that?" I shook my head.

   Julia said, "I know.  It's like, I can be OK with everything else, as
long as I know what's going on and our marriage is safe."

   Then I pulled back from her, and lifted my hands to her shoulders, I
said, "Julia, let's not let this spoil our fun today.  This is something we
can talk about when we all get together.  I want you to come with me and
meet a woman I met last year.  She made me a promise and I want you to be
in on it."

   "What kind of promise?"

   "To play me a special Scottish folk tune, she's a fiddler" I said.

   "I thought you didn't like Scottish music," she said.

   "No, I didn't say that, I said I like Irish music better.  But the Irish
have nothing on the Scots when it comes to fiddling.  It's very different."


   There was a knock at the door.  I released Julia and she stood in the
middle of the room while I answered it.  When I opened it, the manager was
standing there with a key.  "Hello!" he said, holding up the key and
looking past me to Julia.  "I got your message about opening up the doors!"


   Julia blinked and looked at him blankly as he strode across the room and
to the wall separating the two motel rooms.  He inserted the key into the
lock of the dark walnut door and opened it back into our room.  He then
unlocked the other door, directly behind ours and opened it into the
Hargreaves' room.  I could see into room, and like my own, it was still a
tumble.

   "There you go!" he said, "Have a great day!" and he walked out the front
door.

   "Did you ask him to open the doors up?" I asked Julia.

   "No, it must have been Lillie." She said.



   At 11:00 AM, we assembled in the great tent.  A woman named Vanessa
Scott, stood on the stage, holding a fiddle.  A bearded male bouzoukhi
player, stood behind her.  "That's the woman I want you to meet," I
whispered to Vanessa.  Vanessa was a big woman with long redcopper hair,
frizzed into a curly mass.  Her face was quite pale, as if she had never
spent a day in sun.  Faint flecks of freckles were strewn across her face.
The V of her neutral colored blouse revealed the same all the way down to
her breastbone.  Her skirt was a blue and green tartan, cut in such a way
to resemble a kilt, but not quite.  Her legs were clothed in dark
conventional hose and she wore black leather loafers.

   "She's a Scotswoman but she's lived several years in Ontario." I
whispered to Julia.  "She's won several national titles for `Best Scottish
Fiddler.'"

   "What tune is she going to play for you?"

   "I'll let you know when she gets to it," I said.

   Vanessa cut her way through several jigs and reels.  Along the way she
made a comment about how the Irish fiddler and the Scottish fiddler
differed.  "There's a little shuffle or jerk on the end of the bow-stroke
on the Scottish fiddle," she said.  "Look for that, you won't see it in any
other music.  That little shuffle or jerk is also why the Scots are known
to be such wonderful lovers." She winked at the audience who caught on
late. If you were pleyin' it on a flute, it would have to be a roll or a
trill, accomplished with skillful tongue and lithesome fingers." Then they
laughed.  She played a few notes the Irish way and then the Scottish way.
"`Why is it different?' you ask.  All I can sey is this: Too much Irish
whisky makes it impossible to pley that shuffle." The audience laughed. 
"Of course, too much Scotch Whisky makes it impossible to pick up the bow,"
she said holding her fiddle-bow straight-up erect.  Then she let it slowly
arc down until it hung limply from her fingers.  The audience roared.  At
the height of the laughter she tucked the fiddle under her chin and broke
into a fast jig, whooping wildly and hopping around the stage.

   As the concert proceeded, Vanessa would throw in an instrumental version
of a Scottish or Irish folk song.  Then she would go back to a series of
upbeat reels, making comments every three or four numbers.  "I was talkin'
wi' a piper the other dee, and he was askin' me why I dinna pley the pipes.
`That,' seys he, `was the real Scottish music.  `Aye,' seys I, `And the
only reason you pipers have music to pley is because us fiddlers kept it
goin' when the English shut down the pipes.'" She was referring to the
ancient English ban on Scottish bagpipes, which were really war pipes used
in signaling.

   Vanessa received tremendous applause at the end of each number and
sometimes in the midst of the tune itself.  Finally, she paused, took a
drink of water from a plastic bottle and then, holding her fiddle in her
left hand and lifting her bow with right hand, she said, "Is Doog McPherson
in the audience?"

   I startled at my name and felt myself blush.  I raised my hand as I slid
down into my seat.

   "Ah!  There you are, Doog!" Come on up here!

   I looked at Julia and shrugged, "I didn't anticipate this," I said, and
stood up.  I waved at her and started to sit back down.

   "Oh no you don't, Doog, there'll be a price to pay for requestin' a
tune, and ye'll now pay the fiddler!"

   I shrugged my shoulders at Julia and shook my head.  I stood and slowly
made my way in front of the other spectators.  I turned up the straw
covered isle where the fiery Celtic girl had danced the day before.  I
hefted myself up on the plywood platform and smiled broadly at Vanessa, who
smiled back.  She leaned toward me kissed me on the cheek, pointed out
toward Julia and said, "`Tis not the woman ye were with last year, is it?"
Lillie and I had dinner with Vanessa and her husband last year.  She had
played footsie with me under the table of the booth, but that's as far as
it went.

   The audience laughed then I said, "Nay, `tis not, but she'll be here
directly," I rolled my R's.

   "Aye, till then, Doog?" she smiled drawing the bow across the strings
and rolling her eyes."

   "Aye, till then." I was hoping Julia was taking all this banter in
stride.

   Then Vanessa dropped into her thickest Scottish accent.  "Now, Ladies
and Gentlemen, we have a aficionado of Irish music here in spite of his
honorable Scottish name.  Dooglas is of the McPherson Klan, a notable one
indeed." There was a smattering of applause and a few laughs.  "Dooglas has
been after me for several years to pley his favorite folk-song in all the
world, "McPherson's Lament!"

   There was loud applause, including mine, and I nodded my head.

   "Two centuries ago," she continued, " there was a fierce Scottish laird,
turned outlaw, a kind of Robin Hood, named James McPherson.  The Banff City
Magistrates captured him and sentenced him to hang.  I now call upon
Dooglas to sing the song about his illustrious ancestor!"

   I was startled!  I had never sung publicly and, though I could carry a
tune, I was not anywhere near professional quality.  I shook my head, and
Vanessa began playing the opening notes, and said, "Ah yes, Dooglas, ye
must, ye agreed to it last year!"

   Of course, I had agreed to nothing, and James McPherson was not my
ancestor, as far as I knew, but Vanessa had me at a disadvantage.  Here I
was before the public and she had already launched the tune and was dancing
about.  The tune was a military swagger, every second measure ending in a
haunting minor.  It was meant to be sung in a defiant, pugnacious voice. 
She came to the end of the refrain and quieted her fiddle into the
background.  Behind her, the bouzoukhi was pulsing out the rhythm, ready
for me to come in, so I spread my feet, crossed my arms and belted out the
lyrics.

   "Farewell ye dungeons dark and strong.  Farewell, farewell to ye. 
McPherson's life will ne'er be long.  on yonder gallows tree."

   First, I sang the Chorus close to Modern English:

   "So rantingly, so wantonly.  So dauntingly goed he.  He played a tune as
he danced around.  Below the gallows tree."

   "Now some have come for to see me hang.  And some to buy my fiddle.  But
before that I do part with her.  I'll break her through the middle."

   "So he took his fiddle in both his hands.  And broke it on a stone. 
Saying `There's no other hand.  Shall play on thee.  When I am dead and
gone!'"

   Then I sang it in old Scottish English, with a heavy trilling of the
R's:

   "Sae rantingly, sae wantonly.  Sae dauntingly gaed he.  He played a tune
as he danced aroon.  Below yon gallows tree."

   Vanessa came in several times with fiddle variations and the crowd went
wild at the end of the song, standing and clapping.  Vanessa kissed me on
the cheek and I went back to Julia.

   "Wow!" Julia said, "I didn't know you could sing!"

   "I can't, there's just a bunch of tonedeaf Scotsmen out there!" I
laughed.

   Afterward, I took Julia up to meet Vanessa.  "I want you to meet a dear
friend, Vanessa."

   "Aye?  And how dear is she, Darlin' Doog?"

   "Very dear, Vanessa."

   "Aye, such a dear broke in twain my own marriage," she said, nodding
toward the bouzoukhi player.  She was still pouring on the accent, as if
she had a right to meddle as long as she was in character.  Julia frowned.

   "Aye, but she be dear both to Lillie and to me!" I said, placing an arm
around Julia, who finally smiled.

   "Aye, `tis the wey tae be, the wey tae be!" she said.

   "I enjoyed your playing," Julia said.

   "Perhaps ye'll come the next year then?"

   "Definitely!" said Julia, and looked at me, smiling.

   We drifted away as other admirers came up to greet Vanessa.  We walked
hand and hand, very leisurely, to the gate of the park.  "Julia," I said,
"I want to go to the room and be with you for a while.  This weekend is
over tomorrow."

   She slid her arm behind mine and pulled me tight to her side.  "Let's
go."

   The room was cleaned and the beds were made when we got back.  Julia
entered her room through the connecting door and went to her bathroom to
freshen up.  I did the same in my bathroom.  I came back, stripped naked
and climbed into bed.  In a moment, Julia came through the doors, pulling
her side shut.  Then, removing a robe, she climbed naked into bed next to
me.  We lay on our sides facing each other, kissing very slowly, taking our
time.  I reached with my legs to stroke her legs, delighting in the feel of
their smooth skin.  We explored each other with grasping hands, kissing
deeply.  Julia took my penis into her hands and fondled it as she kissed
me. Her fingers were at the very tip, at the foreskin, which was
lubricating generously with pre-ejaculate.  She pulled it forward with her
fingertips, feeling it as if she were testing the texture of fabric.  At
the same time, my fingers worked into her wetness, caressing her clitoris.
All of this commenced in a very natural, very relaxed pace but the tension
was rising and my erection was growing.

   I pulled away, finally, and sat up on my knees.  Julie turned flat on
her back and looked up at me.  I leaned over her head and tenderly put my
lips on hers.  I kissed her slowly several times this way.  Then she
playfully licked my lips.  I licked her lips back.  She licked again.  I
licked her chin.  She licked my chin.  I licked her nose.  She looked at me
carefully.  Then she licked my nose slowly, playing at the nostrils.  I ran
my hand lightly over her thighs and abdomen and she groaned quietly.  I
pulled away again and she looked up at me smiling.

   "Julia, I am lusting for you."

   She smiled.  "I deign that thou shalt have me." I noted word `deign,' an
ancient word of condescension.  Evidently she liked the role of royalty.

   "And how shall I have thee, my Queen?"

   "In whatsoever way thou will, my brave retainer."

   Her eyes were sparkling.  I knew that she dragged Thom to Shakespearean
plays all over Ohio.  This Elizabethan banter was her thing and she was
completely at home with it.

   "Oh my heart!" I said, "If thou knewest what lay within my breast, thou
wouldst not."

   "Oh, but I would!" she said, her voice husky.  She smiled her twitchy
smile.  Did she mean it?  Would she give me what I wanted?  Should I try
it?

   "Oh my Queen, first I wouldst lick thy pearly belly!"

   "Whatsoever thou will."

   I moved over her stomach and began kissing around her navel, very tender
kisses.  I waited for her relaxed sigh, and when it came, I sensed her
yielding, then I opened my mouth and licked.  I felt her muscles retract,
then relax, as I held my mouth to her.  I then crossed over her belly and
began slowly licking down the pelvic bend toward her mound.  I felt her
catch her breath and tense.  I turned my head up toward her face, my ear on
her abdomen and smiled.  "My Lady, thou art lovely, like the morning sun."

   She exhaled, then took a deep breath and I felt the slightest rise in
her hips.  I returned, this time licking across the navel to the opposite
hip and then descending along the fold on that side.  I stopped over her
pubic hair, and I breathed in her smell.

   "My Queen, thy scent is fairer than the heather."

   "I thank thee," she said, with her puckering smile.

   "I wouldst have more from thee, but not without thine own consent, for I
cherish thee."

   Her smile was now uncertain.  "I plight my course to thee, do whatsoever
thou will."

   "I wouldst taste the very center of thy being." I held her eyes, not
moving until she spoke.

   "I, I." She was up on her elbows.

   "I wouldst raise thee from thy dark river," I said, "but I am ever thy
servant."

   "I adore thee," she cried, and lay back and spread open her legs.

   I put my leg on the other side and now straddled her body, looking down
into Julia's pubic hair, very aware that my whole genitalia was suspended
in front of her face.  I remembered her shy statement from yesterday, "I've
never sucked before." As I moved in, I sensed again the heavy clean
fragrance of her.  I licked at the hair and at the closed lips, feeling
them soften and invert very quickly.  I slid up effortlessly to her
clitoris.  I pressed it with the flat of my tongue, then licked around it.
Each time my lips and tongue moved on her, I perceived a series of tensed
contractions and slight pull-a-ways, but always she returned to me, opening
more, until the next twitch backward.  Finally, I felt her press towards my
mouth, gently.  Then she suddenly drove herself against me, twisting and
whipping her entire vulva furiously against my face.  With each swipe she
grunted, "Oh!  Oh!  Oh!" I felt her grasp my buttocks with her palms and
then tighten on me during her orgasm.  As she came, she growled, "Uhhhhh!
God!"

   She lay there under me for a while, her breathing ragged.  Gradually it
became even and deep.  I continued hovering in the relaxed semi-crouch of
the 69 position, kissing her pubis, wondering what she'd do.

   Then I felt her face nudging against my penis, pushing it around against
her cheek, coming to know its feel on her face, kissing it.  Then she
removed a hand from my buttocks and I felt it cradle my distended erection.
There was then a more definitive pressure, this time from her closed lips,
along its length.  Then she opened her lips and tentatively kissed at the
head of my penis.  Then she slipped it into her mouth and began to suck
gently at its tip.  "Yes, darling, that's wonderful," I encouraged.

   I returned to her vulva with my tongue and eventually felt my climax
nearing.  Pausing, I said, "Julia, I am about to come."

   She pulled her mouth away.  "Douglas?  What should I do?"

   "Whatsoever thou will, I will adore thee just the same."

   After a moment, I felt her hand begin to move and she closed her mouth
over me once again.  She gripped me tight and stroked back toward me and
held it.  I ejaculated into her mouth with my first spasm.  Then she
quickly pulled away, letting me come on her shoulders and breasts.  She let
go and giggled a nervous titter.  I came off her and reversed my position
and lay my head on her shoulder cupping her semen-covered breast.

   "Are you OK?" I asked.

   "Oh Douglas!" she said, kissing me deeply.

   "Does that mean you're OK?"

   "It was lovely.  I've never had that!"

   "So you said.  Will you do it again?"

   "Right now?"

   "No!  Not now!" I laughed, and she did too.

   We covered ourselves with the sheet and slept for a while.  We awakened
when we heard the front door of 112 open.  Julia and I looked at each other
our eyes wide.  We lay very still in each other's arms.  We barely heard
the muffled voices and the muted movements through the wall.

   "They're back," I whispered.  Ten minutes passed.  I pulled Julia closer
to me.  She kissed me and we waited.  Five more minutes went by.  Then the
connecting door opened.

   The End

   Comments?  Write: OneGallus@yahoo.com









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