A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal

A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs. Barrington and Anand

By Angela V. Mazzone

A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

By Angela V. Mazzone

Saturday Afternoon at the Jacuzzi – 3:30pm.

On a warm USA September day, tall and slender, she moves with grace.

Watching her, Anand thinks Mrs. Barrington is the age of his mother, yet – no doubt – if possibly ever seen in a bikini, stunning. Still wearing the tailored, long-sleeve, gardening-outfit she wore as they worked together she adds two greenish-blue bath towels to a pile next to the jacuzzi.

Turning away, as she opens the French-style, double-doors leading to her writing studio over her right shoulder, Mrs. Barrington says, “Anand,” pointing left to a curtained cabinet, “you may hang your clothes in there.”

The doors click.

Anand watches as the privacy drapes are pulled with a swish. He again notes her formal speech: “You may hang.” When assisting him with gardening tasks, it is always, “Perhaps you” or “Shall we” or “Might I.”

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

By Angela V. Mazzone

Clearly American, yet she speaks proper English, same as the British and the educated of his homeland near New Delhi.

Mrs. Barrington writes novels. That explains a writing studio.

Curious – looking in the University Bookstore the week she hired him – Anand found nothing written by “A. Barrington.” A. BARRINGTON is engraved on the brass plate above her post box, right side, next to the wrought-iron, security gate where he types a code to enter.

Anand Gupta assists with gardens at the estate two afternoons a week. This week Mrs. Barrington asked if he might help her on a Saturday.

He does wonder about her given name. Not likely Ann or Annie or Allison; more likely Adela or Adrienne or an Audrey, a name of nobility or strength. Anand decides she writes, but has not published, not yet.

He sits on a pine bench along the brick wall next to the already churning and steaming jacuzzi.

Bending he rolls his socks down and off. The work 3

A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

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shoes – as her expectation – already deposited beside the servant’s rear entrance.

Anand stands, steps away from the bench, unbuckles, unzips and, after a momentary pause, his baggy work trousers drop to his ankles.

Naked, except for a long-tailed khaki shirt covering American jockey-style, white cotton briefs, he is feeling uneasy. Uncertain if he can be seen, he looks toward the lake. The second level, recessed deck and hot tub are completely out of view from the lawn below and hardly visible from the lake shore.

He glances toward the closed drapes. He looks again toward the lake. He reaches under the shirt, slips thumbs into his briefs and slides them to his ankles. Looking around again, then looking down at the white cotton, gingerly, he steps away. He sniffs his shirt. Sweaty. He opens buttons from the top. He lets it slip from his shoulders. Naked and now more nervous a momentary shudder follows.

Bending, with socks, trousers, cotton briefs and shirt in hand, he opens the heavy curtain of the deep, wood-framed closet where Mrs. Barrington pointed.

Inside he finds two, plush, white robes on hangers.

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

By Angela V. Mazzone

There are six empty hooks and an unused hanger.

His clothes – shirt on top – are hung on one hook.

Inquisitive, he turns the collar of a robe; he does not know the label – Bloomingdales – thinks it is from London. He sees the fabric is from Turkey. Mrs. Barrington appears to have the best of everything from towels, garden tools, and robes.

He looks again toward the raised jacuzzi noting a wide, brass rim that could stand a polish. Three steps leading up are teak. Steam is rising. The jets emit a soothing, low-pitch rumble. Birds chirp. No breeze.

Sun is low in the west. Despite the calm setting, naked and pensive, not knowing when Mrs. Barrington will return, Anand feels vulnerable.

He looks again out to the lake. No one in view. He looks again toward the closed drapes. In a reflection he sees himself hunched over, hands clasped in modesty over his genitals. Foolish, he thinks.

Removing his hands, handsomely endowed, it dangles.

His thoughts leap to what Karen said as she dried him after showering together, “Anand, you are so . . . you know . . . beautifully . . . you know – as we American's say – endowed.”

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

By Angela V. Mazzone

At the University: the Cadaver Laboratory, a year earlier.

Karen, a curvy, large-breasted, blond student from Wisconsin seized the younger, Indian student's virginity at the university nearly a year ago, the same night she lay open her cadaver.

A corpse is issued to every medical student in Anatomy 202; Karen Nordoff's cadaver's name is 'Theodore.' Theodore died homeless without any known family. Karen affectionately calls him “Teddy.”

Anand and Miss Nordoff are alone in the frosty, fourth-floor Lab with 15 bodies. Karen is one of only three women. Bright and confident, she is two years older than the other students. She started college at a different university in a nursing program, lost credits when she decided on the Medical School at the University of Michigan.

A heavy smell of chemicals slaps the senses.

Overhead lights are dim. Anand thinks it is spooky.

It looks – as he imagines – like the inside of a morgue where a coroner dissects corpses. The bodies are covered. Every torso laid out in the same direction.

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

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Taking Anand's hand, Karen strides to the east wall, reaches to the light switch over the name, “Theodore.” Below the name: ID - M35.274. Anand assumes M is for Male. Scanning, he sees one F, numbers, and “Nora.”

With the switch thrown, halogen lights shine on a centrally-located, heavy-marble, examining slab.

Casually, Karen, throwing her head toward the light, says, cheerly, “Come Anand. Meet” … she pauses for a long time, swallows, then says respectfully, lowering her voice to a whisper ... “Meet Teddy.”

Without saying anything, Anand follows Karen.

At the slab, she says, “Stand back. I'll move the cover.”

It is a heavy, gray, non-porous, sort of canvas.

She nonchalantly, using both hands, rolls the canvas up from the cadaver's feet to the chest, where she stops, saying, the expression mournful, “I don't see his face. Teddy is not real. You know what I mean.”

Standing across from Karen, Anand sees from broad chest past a scarred belly button to toes; this was a large man. He is thick about the waist with large pelvic bones and heavy legs. The toes on his big 7

A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

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feet are spread un-naturally, as if in shock. A different sort of lab material, a thin, blue plastic, covers the big man's arms from elbows to fingers. A square of the same blue plastic covers the genitals.

Karen watches Anand. His probing, dark eyes, stare, without expression, upon the body before him.

An inch or so short of six feet, with a lighter complexion, Anand is taller than most of the students from that part of the world. Brown enough to be exotic.

The first time she sees him in the apartmentstyle, residence hall – shared with 350 other students Karen feels an enchantment; it's his eyes – the black center with glistening white around.

She is behind him in the serving line when he turns, asks, pointing to a tray of food, “May, please, you tell me what that is?” His question, polite, curious.

Startled by his accent, wondering where he is from she looks into his eyes for a long time before

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

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answering, “It's broccoli with some kind of gooeywhite cheese. I'd skip it, Try the corn.”

Having arrived from India the week before, broccoli is new to him. As he is alone, she invites him to join her and two friends at their table. After several more meetings at the residence hall, she invites him to a dramatic performance off campus. A first, hesitant hug elevates the evening as he thanks her.

Karen feels she has a special role to play in hosting an international student.

Anand is nearly her age and soft spoken. He helps her see what she takes for granted: he is passionate about not wasting food, about reusing packaging, about seasoning otherwise bland meals, about the benefits of meditating, about developing public transportation; he almost seems, in addition, a feminist the way he champions the rights of woman, particularly in India, where he expects to be discovered, independently by a new-age, professional woman – as he explained . . . “a woman who will not have to provide his family with a dowry, thus, not a woman chosen to wed him, negotiated by his or her family's marriage arranger.”

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

By Angela V. Mazzone

Karen never met anyone from another country in her small, Midwestern town. Foreign students in the school of nursing were few, only three girls from the Philippines; they kept to themselves. None are in her medical class. Ignoring the why-are-you-wasting-time, sometimes insensitive remarks (Isn't he an Asian?) of other girls, she is inspired to broaden her thinking in his company and soon fantasizes urges to become intimate.

Anand says little about his family, but she is moved by the harsh stories of his childhood in austere British boarding schools. His studies are in cultural anthropology. He hopes to become a curator in a museum. He seems not to care where he is – as he says – “Posted.” He does expect, however, it will be among Hindus in the north.

So unlike the gearhead, overheated, macho types she finds boring, Karen is inspired by Anand's different ways, and his societal passions, and attempts not to stare when she sees his eyes, so wanting to know, his smile so shy, his manner so courteous, his teeth so white.

She soon makes plans to seduce the not-too-tall, shy, curious, wavy-haired, innocent, even effeminately-pure visitor.

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

By Angela V. Mazzone

While she knows him also to be intelligent, well traveled, and observant, she perceives for the first time in her life a self-confident, yet dependent personality, allowing himself to be led, to follow her, like the Golden Retriever she raised in her youth.

As she came to know Anand better, however, she realized what she first thought was a weakness (being dependent and easily led) expressed an innerassurance, a faith in himself, a relaxed sureness – an oriental consciousness, she concluded – allowing personal growth.

At twenty-three years, she had done what young people do in the wide, back seats of cars and in girls' bedrooms when parents are away. She wanted better with the Indian.

Inviting Anand to meet Teddy is both a way of sharing what she studies and, she speculates, the emotion itself promiscuous – still looking at him across from Teddy – a way of sharing an experience with a lean, brown body.

She sees Anand shake his shoulders, maybe to relieve the tension. But she has seen that shoulder shaking before, usually an indication of deep thinking 11

A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

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when he is understanding something new, like the time he grasps the universe contains not millions, but billions of galaxies. His head is down. He raises his eyes questioningly, as, but not saying, “Okay, why I am being shown this?”

Picking up on his questioning gaze, Karen says, “Anand, you have been so kind to tell me about anthropology,” she paused, “I want you to see, really see . . . you know . . . what I do.”

There is a pause, before Anand answers thoughtfully, saying, “This is interesting. We have a basic class in anatomy too. Of course, Karen, not like you. Archaeologists and anthropologists need to know bones. We call it 'Bones 101. I enroll next semester.”

“I suppose you go to museums? . . . see bone collections?”

“No. Not like that.”

More animated than usual, he gestures with his hands as he adds, “It is learning the names of bones on a whole skeleton – you know, skeletons made of bone-like plastics. There are also boxes of plastic 12

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bones made exactly like real bones. Some are not complete bones, more like pieces found in the ground after a 1000 years.”

Karen questions, “What will you do with them?”

“We have to know if they are the bones of men or women – or even children -- and not the bones of domestic or farm animals. The whole class – as an examination – is bussed to sand pit in Indiana. The professor buries a mixture of numbered bones for us to find, identify and arrange. We work in teams.”

Anand pauses. He smiles across the table.

Grinning broadly, he adds, the tone speculative, “Maybe what we study is not so different after all?”

Both are thoughtful. Neither speaks as they realize and consider the extent of this particular connection in their studies. Anand thinks perhaps he will learn about bones from Karen – even this term.

Being in a cadaver lab suddenly becomes more useful.

Karen maintains an expression of interest in what Anand is saying. Her thoughts, however, are 13

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about how to introduce, and play an eyes-closed game; a game she imagines where players guess what bone is touched. She considers a no-more-than-twofinger rule. Maybe tonight?

Following the two-finger thought, Karen is the first to speak, “You know, men and women have all the same bones.”

Anand, “I never thought of it that way. Really?”

“Yes, only the soft parts are different.”

Anand, repeats, “Really!”

“Sure. Think about it. Women's breasts and you know a guy's … well ....” She doesn't finish.

“Hmmmmm,” Anand utters.

Karen goes on, “What we do in this lab is mostly examine,” as a whisper, yet emphasizing, “the soft parts.” She pauses.

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

By Angela V. Mazzone

Not looking at Anand, she hears, him repeat, “Hmmmmmm,” adding, “Ohhh.” She assumes his eyes are fixed on her.

She continues. “Last week I sketched the muscles, ligaments, nerve connections, veins, and skin layers of Teddy's forearms.” She points toward the large man's arms covered with the thin, blue plastic that hides the work of the scalpel, adding, “All pretty complicated. All the that soft stuff.”

After a pause, she adds, “We have to make detailed sketches. And it is necessary to do both arms.” Looking up, she sees him looking at her hands; she turns them palm up, wiggles her fingers energetically, adding, “We practice surgical skills too.”

Attempting to lighten the moment, she continues, “Our professor says, 'This is the only time the patient never complains.'”

She sees his brow wrinkle, his eyes squint, and his jaw is slackened to one side. But he doesn't say anything.

Karen, licks her lips. She hesitates. She is recalling what she did in the Lab that morning.

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By Angela V. Mazzone

Professor Kellerman's Instructions to Karen.

With her classmates gathered around Teddy, Professor Kellerman, stout and gray, with authority expressed by his knee-length, white lab coat, says, “Miss Nordoff will demonstrate. I will explain.

Together we will demonstrate how to reveal, how to present and how to preserve nerve and cellular structure in soft tissue.”

With a tight grin, looking over his thick spectacles, he instructs Karen to grasp the cadaver's penis, start at the base, on the underside, slice up the middle. Not hesitating, penis in left hand, scalpel in right, Karen inserts the thin blade, slits upward, adjusts her fingers, then cuts over and down.

Severed, a polite clapping follows the demonstration when Professor Kellerman says, “Well done.”

Her thoughts return to the matter at hand. It's ten hours later. Karen bites her lower lip. She cannot read Anand's expression. She decides to go ahead.

Anand is expecting her – after the comments about the arms – to say something about the other blue plastic where the big man's thighs come together.

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

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He sees her about to say something as she wets her lips with her tongue.

But instead of saying anything, she reaches forward. With her left-hand finger-nails acting as tweezers she barely grasps a squared corner. Rather than lift, she slowly, deliberately slides the cover down to reveal two inches of course, black pubic hair.

As if uncertain, he sees her pause when the wide base of the cadaver's penis is uncovered. Then, without further pause, and unhurriedly, Anand watches Karen draw the cover completely off. She lets it drop between the big man's knees.

During the seconds it takes him to see what Karen has exposed, she reaches with both hands and grasps the two halves of Teddy's penis. Her fingers separate them like a sausage cut to fry. She spreads the halves across her palms as though holding feathers on the wings of a bird, looks up at Anand, and says, “See? Soft.�

After an animated sharing of ideas and questions about the proposition men and women are only different in the soft parts, Anand accepts Karen's invitation to her shared apartment.

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

By Angela V. Mazzone

Karen had asked her apartment mate, Crissy, about inviting 'a friend' to stay overnight. Crissy agreed to be gone the whole weekend. As a weekend gift, knowingly, Crissy placed a flask of cheap vodka is in the left-side, bottom drawer of Karen's desk and a half-quart of Seagram's lemonade is placed the mini refrigerator.

Sipping the vodka-lemonade, playfully, Karen and Anand, both blind-folded, play what she invented, calling it 'TFT' – Two-Finger-Touch. Seated on a sofa, they agree on two simple rules: first, both touching fingers are required to be on one hand, and second, neither finger is the thumb.

Karen cheats. She peeks. They sip lemonade and play TFT until after midnight when the winner is allowed to lead the loser (still blind-folded) anywhere else in the apartment. His destination, the shower.

Blind-folded, giggling, they shower together.

Removing her blindfold, with extra attention to his lovely penis, she dries him before leading the virgin to her bed.

The last parts of that first evening are repeated half the weekends over several months. At the end of 18

A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

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that academic year, both achieve the highest grades in their respective anatomy classes.

On commencement day, each acknowledged the other for, as they, joked, in front of Crissy, – “For excellent hands-on instruction.”

Crissy reminded them, she had provided the lemonade.

When Karen accepts a prestigious fellowship from Massachusetts General to finish her medical education in Boston, they part as friends, each promising to write.

The Jacuzzi – 4 pm.

Looking away from the reflection of himself, Anand reminds himself to write to Karen. Taking three short steps, he slips under the bubbling surface. He finds one of four double-sets of seats and lowers himself to where the water circulates just below his large-for-aman (as Karen observed) nearly-black nipples. His arms back, they rest comfortably on the brass rim. He nearly floats.

He is able to reach the controls. He finds the settings perfect, the temperature is just right, the sound soothing and he only wishes to close his eyes

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and reflect on his good fortune. He reaches for one of the greenish-blue towels left near the controls by Mrs. Barrington. With the towel under his head, he leans back. His eyes close shutting-out the late-afternoon sun.

Anand's thoughts return to what he will tell Karen. He will write about how his family's fortunes have turned badly, how he is happily no longer expected to take the wife in an arranged marriage, and how he has found a part-time job gardening. It will be a long letter. He will tell about the lake-side estate; ten acres with a tennis court, reflecting pool and a small apple orchard.

He will tell Karen how the owner, a kind, sophisticated, thoughtful, older woman, said he can come anytime to use the spare kayak for paddling around Wetmore Lake, reminding Karen of the lake where they enjoyed a picnic.

He will explain the kayak was the lady's husband's favored water-craft, more satisfying than the cruiser docked on Lake St Clair. Cancer, after a long illness, had taken him three years earlier. They had no children.

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Someday, he will try kayaking. Mrs. Barrington said it is not difficult.

He must tell Karen about this day. For the first time, because he had worked so hard, re-laying a hundred-foot, flagstone path, Mrs. Barrington, after inspecting the work, said, “Anand, you must not leave until you rest and warm yourself in the Jacuzzi. You deserve a treat.�

He started work at sunrise. It is eight or so hours later.

He didn't know there was a hot tub on the second floor deck. It appears large enough for four.

Now he finds himself alone warmed by its churning waters on an autumn Saturday. His head is resting back, and his eyes are still shut as he is beginning to think about how to describe the setting to Karen. He will tell her about the clay tennis court, the privacy of the deck, the view to the lake . . . .

Looking toward the lake, as he opens his eyes, he hears a click from behind.

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

By Angela V. Mazzone

Raising his head from the towel and twisting around, Anand sees one of the double doors open.

Mrs. Barrington, wearing a full length, Chinese red, probably silk, housecoat, cautiously takes one step down. So as not to miss-judge the step, as she is holding a wide try with a pitcher, a bowl, and a glass, her eyes are looking down. Feet both on the level of the deck, she looks up, smiling, and says, “Anand, I'm sure you need something cool to drink.”

Knowing her presence is a surprise, she offers a please-excuse-me warm smile, saying, “It's cherry juice with lemons and limes. Lot's of ice in the bowl.”

Anand sinks lower into the water, actually onto his knees. He watches as she bends like a Geisha, placing the tray near the controls. With delicate moves her long fingers – Anand notes, no colored polish – take the glass, bowl of ice cubes and pitcher off the try. She sets them on tiles next to the towel Anand is using as a head cushion, saying, “Trays are so messy.”

Mrs. Barrington doesn't look directly at Anand or even – to his relief – into the churned waters.

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Nothing more is said as she tucks the try under one arm, straightens, steps toward the doors and – as she reaches for a handle – Anand, hoarsely, almost calling out, says, too loudly, “Thank you very much.”

She turns, smiles, and throwing him a kiss, says, “Anand, you are entirely welcome.”

Departing, as she steps through the doors, the red-silk housecoat parts to flash one slim, pale white, leg from matching red flats to just above the knee.

She is proud of her legs. Since her small breasts have gone pear-shape – legs are a best feature.

Inside, unseen by Anand, pleased with herself, Adrienne first deliberately smiles into a hallway mirror, then rolls her eyes happily considering the increased likeliness that Anand might share her bed.

She has been in a state of suspended desire since watching him that first work day.

Since that day she has fantasized as she looks at young men in tight jeans, judging their penises, wondering if they hung left or right. Thinking it unfortunate Anand wore such loose clothing she had no clue. After a month of wishful thinking, two weeks earlier she decided enough of merely dreaming.

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She returns the tray to the kitchen. On the English sideboard she sees the bowl of nuts. She decides to wait before offering the salted cashews to the intriguing, good-looking, young man in her hot tub. She also has a plate of antipasti and thin-sliced beef and chicken sandwiches. She asked when she hired him, so she knows he is not vegetarian. The yellow-capped jar is curry.

Adrienne Barrington thinks for a moment about her bridge partners. She is aware – if they knew her intentions – they might well be scandalized but, what, indeed, do they know about the needs of a lonely woman who has no children?

Two Weeks Before: Scandalous Suggestions during lady's Bridge.

As Adrienne mixes a fresh set of cards, the other three women are gossiping about a mid-age, divorced, woman living on-site in a trailer as she watches over construction on her new home.

Blanch, short, wispy, asthmatic, and never married, says – a sharp edge, “She's a tigress.

Glamorous, in a common sort of way. I hear tell she

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invites workers – younger men – to the trailer. Not a good look.”

Phyllis, on the plump side, frumpy, answers sympathetically, “I talk with her at Council meetings.

At least she doesn't kiss and tell.”

Jill, newest member of the group, older than the others, widowed, adds, “Maybe we think it is a wicked thing, but – you know – women hit sexual peaks later than men.” She excuses herself, “I'll be back in a few minutes. Go ahead, deal.”

Blanch – as she straightens cards, “It's not right.

There were sugar dads, now it's candy mamma's.”

Phyllis again, “She has been married and divorced twice. I think she knows what she wants.”

Blanch, with a smirk, “Sure. And she knows what they want.” She begins the deal.

The women sort cards. Jill returns to her seat.

Before opening the bid she says, “I was thinking,

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about the younger . . . are they still called . . . 'studs'?”

The women look up. Phyllis and Blanch, both peering over glasses, nod. Adrienne, silent, listens, as Jill continues, “At my age, I don't have time to teach a stud all I know.” There is a pause, “Two clubs.”

Phyllis, takes another look at her cards, glances right toward Adrienne, then across to Blanch, says, “Two hearts.”

Adrienne opens her hand again, sees she has the ace and queen of hearts, plus a six. Expecting Blanch to raise, she decides to play spoiler. Besides, her clubs are weak, little help to Jill. She passes.

Blanch raises, closing the bid at four hearts.

Jill, with no clue from Adrienne, leads with the ace of clubs. She takes the first trick. Her second lead fails. Phyllis trumps from her hand.

Phyllis' finesse fails. Ten plays later; down two.

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As Jill collects the cards and Blanch does the scoring, Phyllis, turning to Jill, asks, “What was it you were saying about not teaching a younger man?”

Jill answers, dryly, then a grin, “Cooking.”

Blanch looks up from the score pad, “What about cooking?”

Phyllis says, with sarcastic edge, “Jill is playing coy.”

As Blanch looks toward Jill with a puzzled expression, Jill, glancing around the table, asks, “Do we remember how it was when we were getting started with sex?” Not waiting for an answer, “It was pathetic. At least for me.”

Jill shuffles the cards. Looking down, as though talking to the table, she continues, “Harry was a good man; a virgin on our honeymoon. It took lots of coxing – really coaching.

He was so conservative. He wouldn't allow ... well, you know.” Jill looks to her partner, adding, “Adrienne hon, you are quiet. Does any of this make sense to you?”

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The women look toward Adrienne. She gives off a wanting-to-contribute-to-the-conversation, but uncertain, almost pained look. She rambles, the thoughts stumbling (not like her at all) saying, “Maybe, like, Blanch and Phyllis said before, with our experience, we know what we want and what the guys today want and it isn't like when we were younger, like teens and twenty-somethings, when we played games, because nobody knew what they wanted.”

They arrange their cards as Adrienne continues, the tone speculative, “We don't have – if we don't want, of course – to do anything with a younger man.

Seems to me it is a matter of choice, so if the choice is made to do – you know – whatever, then choosing a younger man, even like a university student, is something special and there can be a discrete bond, and they can have a laid back relationship, something that neither expects to be babying or binding.”

Adrienne, picks up her cards and starts arranging them as Blanch says, casually, “Hear you have someone from the University working around your house?”

Adrienne: “Uh huh, called the student work office. They sent an Indian, you know, from India.”

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“Good worker?” Jill asks.

“Fine. And dependable too. Always on time. Might have him on a weekend as well.”

Phyllis, opens with. “One club.” Adrienne, “Two spades.” Blanch, 'Pass.' Jill, “Four spades.”

Adrienne plays the hand. Phyllis leads with a low diamond.

After tea, Jill drives Adrienne home. At the gate, offering a hug and kisses on both cheeks, Jill says, with an affectedly-modest wink, “Good help is so hard to come by. I know. I have had some myself.”

Adrienne says nothing, so Jill adds, smiling, as if there is a conspiracy, “Someday you will have to tell me how it is with your boy gardener.”

As her bridge partner remains silent, Jill adds, “Blanch is only jealous.”

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Finally, no longer expecting a reply, Jill says, reflectively, “We all are each other. The same needs.

Remember . . . life is short.�

A brief send-off hug satisfies both women.

4:30 pm, lakeside.

Moments after the door clicks shut, Anand stands, looks toward the lake, checks the drapes again. This time kneeling on a submerged seat, he reaches for and pours a glass of red juice. Even without ice, it is refreshing. He adds ice, sips again. Even better.

He turns the circulation down before he pours a second glass and, thirsty, he gulps it before returning to the seat and the towel. The hot tub is quieter now as he sorts out impressions of the mysterious Mrs. A.

She must have been exquisitely attractive in her youth, maybe a model, or he imagines her as a TV news-reader, even a television commentator. Her voice is low-pitched, almost masculine, but her gestures are so feminine, smooth, flowing and delicate. The slight, unhidden gray only adds to her attractive authority.

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For contrast, when she leans on a shovel, and a hip is sort of tossed, she assumes the posture of one of the bathing-suited women so common on slick American magazine covers.

He has felt her silently observing him with eyes so light blue, almost gray that her eyes intrigue him, even to have him wishing to look into them for clues of an other-worldliness.

Mrs. Barrington appears in excellent health. She walks with a brisk, easy stride. When working alongside him, she never tires.

He speculates. A month earlier a downstairs window is open and he looks in; it is a room full of exercise equipment. He concludes, she works out.

The exertion of the morning and warm water are catching up with Anand and he almost dozes off when he hears that familiar click.

Groggy, he decides not to move, only lifts and turns his head. The lovely woman is stepping down as she did before, there is the same flash of pale, slender leg, but this time one hand is reaching out with a 31

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bowl, the sort of bowl his mother uses to offer curry and rice.

He thinks she likes his name since she always starts by saying it, this time, “Anand, I expect you like cashews. These are from your homeland. Because you need it, I added extra-fine, flaked, sea salt.�

Standing above him she appears to be ten feet tall until she kneels as she did before. Her blue-gray eyes look into his dark eyes and then into the slowly circulating water.

As the Jacuzzi is a cream shade, like a painting

by Dali, he knows his brown form is visible in a surrealistic way. Anand thinks of a small way to please her as he did Karen. Mrs. Barrington has been so kind. He allows his legs to stretch. It is half a move. He stops.

After casually noting not only his lovely long legs, Adrienne again turns her gaze to his eyes. They are so much darker than his delightfully-shaded, smoothskinned, hairless chest.

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With him looking not so very innocent, again stretching his legs, she allows her gaze to lower to the enchanting, swaying image of her increasing fantasy, now desire.

Anand sees a vague, wry expression as she bites her lower lip the way people do in thought.

Lifting her eyes, she places the bowl next to the half-empty pitcher, saying, crisply, “You need salt to replace what you lost working,” adding, as she stares again into the water, softer now, saying, “and what you are now loosing in that warm water.”

“I think so too. Thank you,” Anand offers weakly.

While feeling naughty and laced with desire, Adrienne also feels concern for him. Anand looks content enough, maybe having, she wishes, sensual impulses himself, but he – no doubt – needs the salt and he is probably hungry.

Standing, she decides it is time for the sandwiches, saying, as she looks down at him, at the sweat on his brow, and into the wavy brown contours in the inviting warm and sensual swirl of water, 33

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“Anand, I will be back here in minutes. You shall eat!

You look hungry.�

Anand does not turn to see her go. He hears the click.

Without looking, he stretches his fingers to find and slip over the side of the cashew bowl. He tries not to let any nuts fall into the water as he considers what is happening. Did she say something about coming back soon because he is hungry? She is certainly kind to me. Of course, I do my best work for her. I don't complain. I am always on time. I did work extra-hard on the walkway this morning. She has offered to let me kayak from her property, using her kayak. She trusts me with the code to enter the grounds. I have no reason to leave soon, so, I guess, I will have a bite to eat before leaving. She will have plans for the evening.

Mrs. Barrington Selects a Sarong

As she walks, contemplatively, slowly, toward the kitchen, Adrienne recalls her brief, rebellious, wildwoman, two years in India, broadcasting for the BBC from Jodhpurs. Hindu and Sikh men are not

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circumcised. All the Muslims are. Of course, that was twenty-five years ago.

Times and practice change. The handsome young man in her hot tub was not even born then. Through the swirling water it is difficult to tell with certainty, but Anand appears circumcised, copper colored.

Entering the kitchen, there is a momentary shiver then a longer shudder. Unnerved for a moment, she pauses, placing both hands on a chair, she leans, she hangs her head, takes a deep breath, then another.

Closing her eyes, Adrienne considers her situation: one part confident; another desperate. She realizes she is in the self-questioning, sometimes terrifying years after forty before sixty. With exercise, she is staving off the inevitable: the matron-time when she will seem harmless and useless and not be noticed by men.

Even though she occasionally feels the need for some romance, she declines invitations to concerts, readings and lectures extended by men older than her (making her feel older yet). She even refused a few well-intended dinners to meet men extended by her 35

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married friends. Since Chester's long illness and the years after his death, she hadn't a relationship, let alone a lover.

She gave her usual maid and cook the weekend off.

Confident thoughts led her to invite Anand. Now thoughts of a lover again after so many years cause her to squeeze her thighs tightly. She sighs.

Today’s generation – she reads – as in the Kama Stray have so many ways to be intimate. Maybe – she considers – this is only momentary, a fleeting desire.

No, she concludes, it is not fleeting – life is passing her by. Jill encouraged her to think of a common humanity, common needs, men and women; it was wise of her to say, “We are all each other.”

Taking another long breath, Adrienne throws her shoulders back, clasps her hands, left hand over right – the Svengali practice from her time in Nepal. She presses the clasped hands to her chest. Her heart beat is intense. There is a tight, involuntary smile.

Turning she pushes on to the master bedroom.

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Going to a linen closet, she reaches to a littleused shelf. She unwraps a cloth bag to take and shake out two sarongs. The first is a thick fabric, dark with autumn colors, leaves and flowers. For a moment she considers the rainbow design of the second, but considers it inappropriate to offer something so sheer that barely drapes to knee level.

The heavier fabric, she concludes, it is what Anand needs. He will be covered from waist to ankles.

“Hmmmm” she hums, thinking, lifting her spirits, how easily a sarong, like a sari, wraps on and off.

For herself, she decides she will be more daring.

A sari in mind, she will change later.

Late Afternoon – 5:00 pm.

With a tray of food, a fresh pot of tea, and the sarong over her left arm, Adrienne, still wearing the red-silk housecoat, returns to the deck.

Hearing the click, Anand shifts to the lake side.

He smiles, then a relaxed grin, as she gingerly steps 37

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down. He guesses immediately what that fabric on her arm is. How thoughtful, he thinks.

Placing the tray and tea on the side bench, with both arms straight, she holds out the sarong, saying, “You will recognize this.” Then adds, “I will look away.

I assume you know how to wrap it about yourself,” finally asking, “You do, don't you?”

Anand answers, “It has been a few years. Like bicycle riding, you don't forget.” Turning away, she hears water splashing and knows he is stepping from the tub. The sarong leaves her fingers. She didn't expect to see him wrap himself, but there is Anand in the reflection! She stares. She knows authors are not advised to write that a male is beautiful, but he is.

Still looking at his reflection, she sees him turn away to face the railing; he expertly passes the fabric around his lower back lifting it barely above his waist, wraps it tightly, twice around, then – even out of her sight she knows – he makes three tight folds down the front to secure the sarong.

“There,” he says, “you can look now.”

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Smiling broadly, and proud, he shows off, turning, hand on one hip, like a model, a male mocking the high-fashion runway. Seeing how expertly he wrapped himself from waist to narrow ankle, she claps, and adding, after giving him a long, appreciative stare, “Lets celebrate! Help me lift the bench. We can look at the lake.”

Each picking an end, they position it so the food and tea are in the middle. The sit on ends facing each other.

The first to speak is Anand saying, “Do you mind if I pour your tea?”

“Kindly do.”

He pours for her, but not himself. Adrienne, takes the clue, picks up the pot and pours for him.

“Thank you, Mrs. Barrington”

As the plate of sandwiches is extended toward Anand, the woman in the bright-red housecoat, sighs and says, “Anand, I don't feel it right, just now, for you to be so formal. Maybe you can try 'Ann.'”

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Knowing he needs an explanation.... “You see, the pen name I use for my novels is Ann, Ann Cox. Friends who know my novels call me Ann. When I go to book launches or speak at literary meetings, I am Ann Cox. Only my mother, bridge partners, tax man and attorney and a few merchants in Ann Arbor know me as Adrienne Barrington.”

Considering he may not understand the spelling, indeed, may get it very wrong, she adds, “Cox, spelled with an 'x'.”

Anand: “I'll try to remember.” He selects a chicken sandwich, and says, “Thank you Anna C-ox.” Thinking he is clever, he smiles brightly, From Anand, she likes the sound of Anna.

Seems sexier coming from deeper in his throat. She replies, “Yes, Anna and Anand.

Gardeners extraordinary!” Lighthearted now, she queries, “Shall we go into business together? You know, we could franchise A & A.”

Using real and pretend first names, the chatting is comfortable and easy about what she writes (romance), his plans after graduation, apple picking in the orchard, tennis (they both play), and Michigan rivers for kayaking.

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

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Absorbed in conversing, Anand is not noticing her contemplating his hairless chest, large nipples, and the smooth, softly-curved belly above the attractive sarong. That is how she notes the goosebumps. He is cold without complaining.

She says, “Anand, I see you are chilled. While I fetch a dessert, slide yourself back into the warm water. Go on. Do it. Leave the sarong on the bench.”

As she stands, picking up what is left of the snack, with a sweeping grin, she says, “Anna will return in minutes.”

Before she leaves the deck, she reaches behind the fabric cover over the two robes and Anand's clothes, saying, “I'll throw your work clothes to soak in the wash. They won't take long to dry. You'll get these back later.”

Gone are his briefs, socks, shirt and trousers.

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Anna Cox and the perfect sari.

Playing the name-game, makes her feel different, as if she is no longer Adrienne Barrington, living among eighteenth-century oil portraits, oriental carpets and occasionally playing the Steinway grand piano. She is the proper, supervising employer of a twentysomething, college-student gardener.

He just happens to be soft spoken, gentile, exotic and so handsomely virile.

Fantasizing again, she is Anna Cox, romantic mystery writer, role-playing, gathering and trying out settings for a her next novel. She imagines a character: a tall, vivacious widow, a respected attorney by day; sly, disguised, sex Goddess at night; her protagonist has a variety of press passes, each with a different photo—wigs, blond, brunette, long hair, down to her eyes, over one ear....

International students are selected. Anna Cox finds them in the library, maybe sitting, reading near a campus walkway, sometimes near the campus, in bars, even the bars that cater to gay men. She is writing a series on students from abroad at American universities; she dangles a press pass; she needs to take pictures and, since she is from New York, she

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invites them to where she stays – a hotel – for photos and interviews. Only a fantasy. Yes. Of course.

Anna Cox concludes it is time to charm the young man already in her hot tub. She needs the right clothing.

In a small, narrow, end-closet in the master bedroom, she selects the most alluring garment on earth, a sheer sari. Because of her height, it is cut long. Deciding to wear nothing under the fabric, the light blue, almost white, edged with silver thread, organza is wrapped Bengali style, thrown twice over the left shoulder. The right shoulder is bare. No bra.

With her raven hair, shoulder length, clasped in the back, she concludes Anna looks almost Hindu.

Satisfied with the drape, she returns to the kitchen.

Two custard cups are removed, hot, from the oven. Two spoons and a pitcher of thick cream are added to a silver tray. From a drawer at the end of the counter, she lifts out a narrow, silver box, shaking it to remind her of the content. She takes a deep breath, and another. After a last look at her hair, without additional makeup, she slips out of her shoes and proceeds barefoot toward the deck.

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A Fine Line Between Seduction and Scandal: Mrs Barrington and Anand

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5:25 pm.

Anand has returned to the seat where his back is to the lake. From this vantage, in the reflection, he only sees his head and the lake behind. After the tea and sandwiches, he feels rested again. It has been – he thinks – fifteen minutes or so since she said, “Anna will return in minutes.”

He has only just realized there are no mosquitoes at the second level, none. To be certain, he peers into every visible nook and cranny. No mosquito is seen; not a fly. Only a butterfly. And a second.

He hears the click. Returning his eyes to the reflection, he sees a door open slowly, more slowly than is usual.

A bare foot emerges. Then he sees a silver tray and – his eyes enlarge – Mrs. Barrington stoops slightly as she, gingerly, with one hand holding the tray, emerges. On the level of the deck she straightens, looks directly at Anand, purses her lips and with one wrist curled on a hip – the hip below the bare shoulder – says, “Do you like Anna?”

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Events moved more rapidly and comfortably after her playful return.

She saw how Anand was amazed to see her dressed in a sheer sari. He appeared speechless.

Indeed he was, so she simply knelt next to him and offered to spoon the creamed custard into his waiting lips.

Stunned by her appearance in a sari – even more arousing than the bikini he imagined earlier – eagerly he accepted the offer.

Even before the custard was finished, minutes later, Anna says, “I have an idea.” Removing the remaining custard to the side, she says, “Anand, please close your eyes.”

He hears only the churning water as he waits her – he knows – next command.

Moments after sensing the water level rising, guessing she entered the jacuzzi, he heard her whisper, “Now you can see Anna the mermaid.”

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She had taken the underwater seat directly across from him. She smiled, blowing a kiss across the whole three feet of swirling warm water separating them. Then stretching her arms forward she invited him to her side of the hot tub, saying, “Anand, come sit on the mermaid’s lap.”

Without hesitating he does as she commanded.

Seated sideways on her lap, it seemed so natural to rest his head on her shoulder so he did as she hugged him tightly like a mother her child. Five minutes passed that way before she first kissed his neck, then ears, then lips met and touching everywhere seemed so natural afterward.

The Morning.

Waking the next morning, after dressing him in his clean and dried work clothes and after driving Anand to his residence, she thought how overwhelmed he might have felt – but didn't – the student gardener, who, with his dark tousled hair, finding himself, hand in hand, led into her boudoir after a playful time in the warm swirling water.

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Anand enjoyed her mature touch and fragrance and eventually surrendered entirely to her without fear, his body no longer trembling, instead yielding to affectionate moments of wonderment.

Adrienne enjoyed first hovering over then being under the aroused virile younger man. As his certainty increased, their lips and tongues fluttered.

They sensed escape and exhalation.

Occasionally both felt like flowers floating on water; other moments were racked with vibration and thunder to be followed by profound stillness.

Everything seemed possible. Everything real.

Everything right.

*** Postscript: Mutual pleasures continued over the months, season to season, as 'Auntie Anna' supported her young gardener through to his PhD. Anand Gupta accepted a posting in the north of India, married, then fathered two children. Karen became a full-fledged doctor of medicine (MD) and an outspoken feminist. And Blanch continued over-bidding her bridge hand as weekly sessions of gossip continued through the seasons.

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End. Let your feedback on the Blog: “Literatura Erótica Pelo Mundo” “Erotic Literature Around The World” http://literaturaeroticaavenda.blogspot.com.br/

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