10.  Shop Around
 By Gavin Trevain

 J steps into the shop around the corner to buy some condoms.

 He waits patiently for the pharmacist to serve another customer.  J fails to
 notice his companion entering the store.

 J shakes his head as the man behind the counter hands him a box.  "Grand."

 His companion is now within earshot although she cannot yet see him.  She smiles
 to herself as she recalls the first time she had tried to put a condom on him.
 She had succeeded eventually but not without some difficulty.  Unlike most women
 who prefer their men to have small or average sized penises, she definitely has
 a penchant for the wide-bodied jumbo-jet variety as opposed to the slimmer
 Concorde line.

 She reaches the counter as J pays for his purchase.  The forty-ish looking man
 behind the counter looks up at her.

 She stares right back and then it hits her.  "Serge?"

 "It can't be!" he cries in astonishment.  "The dear friend of my baby sister."
 He steps through the swinging door and embraces her.

 She returns his hug with a kiss on each cheek.  Childhood memories come flooding
 back like waves lapping the shore.  The first time she had seen him was when she
 was a child of six.  But then he was twice her age and had paid little attention
 to her.  "It's wonderful to see you again," she intones.

 "My sister still has all the photographs of you from around the world.  But she
 lost touch with you a few years ago."

 "Yes, Genieveve has always been such a good correspondent.  How is she?"

 "She's great but she moved out to the country a few years back."

 "How's married life treating you?"  She sees the pained expression in his face
 and regrets almost immediately asking the question.

 "Oh!  We split up recently..."

 "I'm sorry to hear that."

 "Don't be.  It's not your fault.  Besides, I'm happy I got custody of the
 girls."

 "How many do you have?"

 "Two," he says as he proudly whips out his wallet.  "Michelle has just turned
 thirteen and Monique is sixteen."

 "They look wonderful.  You must be very proud of them."

 "Yes," he beams.  "But what about you?"

 She pauses.  "Oh dear!  I'm forgetting my manners.  Serge, I'd like you to meet
 J."

 The men shake hands and some further conversation ensues.  Another customer
 appears at the counter.

 "I must get back to work but please give me your number," entreats Serge.  "We
 should get together soon to catch up."

 Later, the couple heads out into the street arm in arm.  J is very much in love
 with her.  Those feelings are returned in full measure by Madame X.

 ***

 Dan looks at her reflection in the window of the camera shop.

 Dan drinks in the fulfilling image as he drifts off into a reverie recalling the
 conversation they had on the way back to the car the last time they were
 together.

 "And what do you plan to do with the rest of your life?" she asks, out of the
 blue.

 "Well, in spite of what you seem to think about those born with silver spoons in
 their mouths, I do plan to work for my living."

 "At an agency on the West Coast, perhaps?" L inquires.

 "Well, yes," Dan responds, almost sheepishly.

 "There's nothing wrong with following in your father's footsteps if that's what
 you really want to do.  But is that what you really want?"

 The doubts have been plaguing him for a while but it has taken his friend's
 probing to bring them to the surface.  "I have to admit I'm not really sure."

 "An MBA is a really marketable commodity - but is business your first love?"

 "I do like it but the thought of someday having to manage a major company does
 seem rather daunting," Dan says thoughtfully.  "I guess I'm a people-person and
 doing the radio broadcasts is something I really love because I get to talk to
 so many people."

 "Have you thought about a career in broadcasting?"

 "Contrary to popular belief, most deejays barely make a subsistence living."

 "I wasn't thinking of radio," L enunciates.

 "Television?"

 "Why not?" L offers.  "From where I'm standing, you're not too hard on the
 eyes."

 "Thanks, but I haven't got any training in journalism or communication."

 "You blockhead!  This is America - the land that favors the beautiful.  When
 you're tall and good-looking, people automatically attribute good qualities to
 you.  Television is one industry where beauty and personality is more important
 than brains."

 "Are you implying I'm not bright?"

 "On the contrary and that gives you a decided advantage.  Surely, there must be
 some people on TV that you admire."

 "I think that if I could be like anyone on TV, I'd like to be the next Charlie
 Rose - he's the most decent journalist and real interviewer."

 "I want to be the first Ange Fitzini, not the next Annie Liebovitz.  So wouldn't
 you want to be the first Dan Majewski instead of the next Charlie Rose?"

 "Do you think I have a shot?"

 "The first test is to see whether you're photogenic.  You would need to do some
 glossies and a demo videotape and just fire them off to some TV stations."

 "But I don't know any..."  He stops in mid-sentence.

 "Photographers?" L laughs.  "In fact, if you want to spring for the studio
 rental and the film and the duplicating costs, I know a friendly photographer
 who might be up to it."

 Dan thinks about it.  He has absolutely nothing to lose.  "I would be quite
 happy to pay the friendly photographer for her time."

 "If I ever need you to pay my way, I'll ask," L intones firmly.

 Dan realizes he has hit a nerve.  "I'm sorry.  I think I'll take you up on your
 generous offer."

 "See anything you like?"  The remark snaps Dan into the present.

 "I like what I see," he remarks, drinking in the warmth of her smile.

 "I like that digital camera in the window but I haven't saved up enough money
 for it, yet," L says.

 "Why don't you allow me?" Dan offers.

 "Oh!  I couldn't.  It's way too much."

 "Consider it part of the expense of the photo shoot."

 "And this gift wouldn't come with any strings attached?"

 Dan looks hurt.  "I'm not that kind of guy."

 It's L's turn to apologize.  "I'm sorry.  In that case, I will take you up on
 your generous offer."

 They hold hands as they walk into the store.

 ***

 Nadia parks the Camry briefly as Olga carries her paintings into another art
 gallery.

 She puts the car in gear as she pulls out from the curb.  Parking is at a
 premium and she begins to drive around the block.  It's a pleasant day and she
 is in a good mood.  She congratulates herself for choosing a course of studies
 in computer science.  Those summer jobs putting up web sites hadn't hurt her
 resume, either.  Her feet planted firmly on the ground, she is certainly the
 more pragmatic half of the couple.  After all, you do need money to live in the
 good old U.S. of A.  She pulls over on her third circuit of the block as she
 sees a familiar figure emerging from the gallery.

 "Did you forget something?" Nadia asks her empty-handed friend.

 "Not at all."  Olga can barely contain her excitement.  Her eyes are electric
 with excitement as she embraces her paramour.  "I did it!"

 "No!" Nadia exclaims in disbelief.

 "Yes!  They've taken all three on consignment."

 "Oh, darling!  I'm so happy for you."  Nadia pauses before continuing, "By the
 way, I got two job offers yesterday and I've accepted one."

 "That's fantastic!  Congratulations!  We have to celebrate and it's on me this
 time."  Olga reaches over unconsciously and plants a long wet one on her lover.

 It is a simple act of kindness but it is also an act of indiscretion.  The young
 man casually observing the two women through the window of the Phuong Hong
 restaurant feels like a dagger has dissected his heart.

 ***

 It is nearly midnight and the phone is ringing as J walks into his apartment.

 "Hello!" he says.

 The greeting is not returned.  "Did you just get back from Aujourd'hui?" the
 familiar voice asks curtly.

 "Yes, but how did...?" J begins.

 "You were out with another woman?"

 "Yes."

 The interrogation continues: "Was this the same woman whose hotel room in the
 Four Seasons you were in earlier this morning?"

 "Yes..."

 "You've slept with her?"

 "Yes, but..."

 "That's all I needed to know."

 J hears the click as the voice disappears.  He dials K's number.  It rings but
 there is no reply.  J curses as he slams the receiver.  He looks at the blinking
 red light on the answering machine.  He presses the message button.  There are
 four beeps but no messages.  He presses a button on the phone to display the
 name and number of the last caller.  J hits the redial button.  There is no
 answer again.  He curses in French this time.

 J pulls up the collar on his coat as he steps onto Bay State Road.  The wind is
 wailing as he rings the buzzer to the familiar brownstone building.  There is no
 reply.  After the third try, he curses again as he looks up to the heavens,
 which have now unleashed their fury.

 "Perfect.  Just f**king perfect," J mutters under his breath as the
 precipitation pelts down.

 ***

 Bradley kisses her again as she fondles his rear end.

 B moves her hand over the silky material to the front of the crotch-less
 panties, unsheathing his stiff sword.  She snuggles up against him as her long
 blonde hair caresses the padded lace bra on his chest.  She continues kissing
 his body as she falls to her knees.

 "Nurse, what can you do to help me with my condition?"

 "It certainly looks very painful, doctor, but I think I know something that will
 reduce the swelling."  B draws her lips over her teeth to minister the medical
 procedure.  A few minutes later, the patient gets the necessary relief.

 Later, as they lay side by side reliving their weekend escapade, Bradley brings
 up the subject again.

 B replies, "I'm still thinking about it."  B has a lot on her mind.  She is
 still feeling a little guilty and uneasy about having told K about J and the
 other woman.  She is still feeling the pressure of her studies.  Now she has to
 deal with the pressure of Bradley asking her to sign a pre-nuptial agreement.
 She has to decide whether she wants to stick with what's she's got or shop
 around for a new husband.

 ***

 As it is still raining, K lifts up the hood of her red jacket onto her head
 before stepping on to Bay State Road.  The hood obstructs her peripheral vision
 so that she does not see the homeless man emerge from behind the steps of the
 brownstone building.

 "A moment of your time?" a deep voice asks.

 Red Riding Hood turns around and is surprised to see the Big Bad Wolf.  She
 turns back and continues walking.  "I've got nothing to say to you."

 "K, please wait up."

 "Why should I?  It's over between us.  You've cheated on me."  She carries on
 walking.

 "No, I haven't.  I was with Madame X."

 K turns around to glare at him.  "A madam?  So you were with a hooker and that
 makes it okay?"

 "What?" J splutters.

 "Look, I'd much rather be with someone like Siggi who appreciates and respects
 me rather than some jerk who has been sleeping around."

 "But that's what I'm trying to tell you.  I haven't been sleeping around."

 "You told me you've slept with her."

 "Yes, but I haven't been unfaithful to you."

 K looks at him incredulously.  "Don't pull a Bill Clinton on me.  How can you
 say you've slept with her and not been unfaithful to me?  Don't say you weren't
 unfaithful because you've never slept with me - I'm not buying that garbage."

 "I answered your question on the phone truthfully."

 "Admission of guilt doesn't excuse the crime."

 "But I'm not guilty of any crime."

 "Does that depend on your definition of crime?"

 J is now desperately trying to get the conversation back on track.  "Let's start
 over.  Yes, I have had sexual relations with that woman, Madame X.  But the
 operative word is 'had' - past tense."

 "So you mean to tell me that since you had sexual relations with her a day or
 two ago and you're not boinking her at this moment, it somehow makes it okay?"

 "I didn't sleep with her a day or two ago."

 "You told me you did."

 "Yes, but that was before I met you."

 "Do you mean before we met this morning or before we met for the first time?"

 "Long before we ever met."

 K takes a deep breath but still looks at him a little suspiciously.  "Look me in
 the eye and tell me you've never even thought about sleeping with another woman
 since you've known me."

 "You mean besides Julia Roberts, Kim Basinger, Jennifer Lopez and Vivica A.
 Fox?"

 Despite herself, K bursts out laughing.  This is the old, brutally honest J that
 she knows.  "I was being serious.  Tell me truthfully if you've slept with
 anyone since you've known me."

 "Hmmm...Let me think..."

 K punches him in the arm and not too gently.  "You're asking for it."

 "No, I haven't."  He gazes into her eyes.  "Besides, if I didn't care about you,
 why would I spend the entire night by your steps?"

 "You were outside all night?"  K is impressed.

 "All night long."

 K steps forward and embraces him.  "Did we just have our first fight?" she
 whispers.

 "I guess."

 "I'm sorry for doubting you, J."

 He kisses her cheek and says nothing.

 "J, you look like hell."

 "Thanks for noticing.  I need to go home and clean up."

 "Before you do, are you going to tell me about the mystery woman?"

 J gives a brief synopsis and concludes, "She's in town to expand her business
 and she just wanted to look me up."  J doesn't indicate the nature of her
 business.

 "How come you didn't introduce me?"

 "I was planning to.  She's here for another week or so.  So if you've got no
 plans for this weekend and she has time in her schedule, you'll get your
 chance."

 "If you're really nice to me..."

 "Aren't I always?"

 "The jury's still out though justice was probably blind in this case to jump to
 conclusions."

 J smiles back.  "There's just one thing I want to know."

 "You're wondering how I knew?"

 "That, too.  But mainly: Who in the hell is ZIGGY?"

 K smiles demurely.  "Oh?" she sighs.  "Just another sexy, Scandinavian stud..."

 K hauls off her hood and howls at the bewildered, bedraggled boyfriend.  It has
 stopped raining.

 ***

 Juan is happy he decided to shop around for a place of his own.

 He dropped out of high school to support his large family and helped put his
 sister through college.  He became a skilled carpenter and handyman, inheriting
 his late father's strong work ethic.  He prides himself on his craftsmanship in
 an era when craftsmanship is courting extinction.  He is on the verge of
 starting his own home repair business, believing fully that customers who
 appreciate quality will be customers for life.

 Juan also has a dream.  In his mind, he builds his dream house daily - a house
 that he will build with his own hands to his exacting standards.  But he also
 dreams of sharing that house with someone who will turn it into a home.  He
 believes he has found a fairy-tale princess who will be able to do just that.
 As the steam rises out of the shower, there is only one question on his mind.
 Am I worthy enough?

 He reaches for the towel on the rack as his princess enters the bathroom.  "I
 see you're all hot and wet for me!" D exclaims as she admires his muscular
 frame.

 "Always." He is steaming for his sweet, smart, sexy senorita.

 "By the way, have you done your TSE this month?" D inquires.

 Juan groans at the reminder about the testicular self-examination.  "Do I have
 to?"

 "I told you it's the leading cancer among men between 20 and 35, and it can kill
 you."

 "How come I never even heard about it before?"

 "Men just don't seem to be as concerned about their health as women.  But look
 at it this way: two to three minutes a month could save your life.  And right
 after a shower is the best time because the scrotal skin is relaxed.  Here, let
 me help."  D cups his scrotum in the palms of her hands, gauging the size and
 weight of each testicle in her hands.

 "My left one always seems to hang a little lower," Juan observes.

 "That's normal unless you feel pain.  Do you feel any pain?"

 "Not yet," Juan smiles nervously.

 D begins exploring his left testicle with both hands, searching for the
 epididymis, or soft sperm tube, at the top and back of the testicle, feeling
 along the firm, smooth tube of the spermatic cord.  Detecting no unusual lumps,
 she examines the testicle itself by rolling it gently between her thumb and
 fingers, paying particular attention to the sides of the testicle.  She repeats
 the process on his right testis.

 "Did I pass, Dr. D?"

 "You feel perfectly healthy to me," says D as she squeezes his firm buttocks and
 kisses him.

 Much later, as they lie in the bed of his new apartment for the first time, D
 leans over and runs her fingers through his hair.  "It's O.K., sugar.  It'll
 happen in time."

 Juan doesn't want to be consoled.  At the age of 24, he has a monumental
 mountain to surmount.  He is still a virgin.

 ***

 "Hello stranger!"

 K smiles back and hugs D.  "Yeah, I guess it's been a while."

 "Too busy balling the jack?"

 "D!" K scolds.  "Not everyone is as loose and lascivious as you are."

 "Like a virgin you still are?"

 "Love takes time," responds K as she cottons on to song title speak.

 "Slowhand?"

 "Someday we'll be together."

 "One fine day."

 "Going to the chapel."  K stares at Marsh Chapel.  "Or should that be Juan fine
 date?"

 "Yes, but..."

 "What's up, doc?"

 "Don't bug me cause I don't know if I should even be telling you this."  D
 begins her narration, "He's so shy..."

 K listens patiently.  "Have you ever thought that he just might be intimidated
 by your beauty and brains?"

 "I'll take that as a compliment," D asserts.  "It seems to be like stage fright.
 He seems to get started okay but just when things start to get hot and heavy..."

 "He just peters out?" K can't resist the opening.

 D gives her friend a disapproving glance.  "K!  Don't make fun.  It's a serious
 problem for me.  I ache for him.  I'm beginning to wonder if he needs
 professional help."

 "Maybe some people just need to ease into things a little more gradually.  I
 know I'm not ready yet and J respects that.  I know there are a lot of things I
 don't know but J seems to be willing to take the time to teach me.  So maybe you
 shouldn't pressure him so he feels like he has to perform like a trained seal."

 "Are you suggesting I should back off and play hard to get?"

 "The impossible dream," K chuckles.  "No.  Just engage in foreplay without
 expecting it to lead to anything.  Get comfortable sensually with each other's
 bodies and build the trust between you.  If you respect him, tell him.  Men have
 fragile egos and are very sensitive about comments made by someone they care
 about."

 "Well, I think we're comfortable with each other's bodies.  He does my breast
 exams and I help him with his TSE."

 "TSE?"

 D explains.  She concludes, "That's something you could do for J."

 "Is this another one of those diseases that black men are more likely to succumb
 to?" K asks.

 "Actually," D ponders, "white men are four times more likely to get it."

 "But it sounds like prevention is better than cure since there isn't a cure
 here."

 "Exactly.  But getting back to our problem, I don't want all my Kegels to go to
 waste."

 "What are Kay-gills?" K asks.

 "Exercises that help you hold on to a man, so to speak."  D patiently explains
 the process of starting and stopping the flow of urine to strengthen the pelvic
 muscles.

 "So you tighten and relax them about 200 times a day?"

 "You should do at least 120 and you can do them anywhere.  I even do them while
 I'm driving."

 "Are there any advantages besides more pleasure for both partners?"

 "Yeah, so you don't pee when you sneeze.  Easier childbirth is the big one,
 though."

 "How come you know all this stuff?"

 "Avid reader, I guess."

 "I just had a thought," K interjects suddenly.

 "It must be lonely."

 K gives her just one look and a hard one at that.  "This is an idea for later
 on..."

 D listens this time.  "That does sound like a good idea.  It's worth a shot..."

 They talk some more before they kiss and say goodbye.

 ***

 L begins setting up her equipment in the studio as Dan looks around.

 Dan sits behind the desk in his dark blue solid suit as L turns on the video
 camera.  He runs through his fake newscast of world news and business news.

 "Why don't you try sports?" L suggests.  "And try being a little more lively
 this time."

 "Now, the weather.  Pretend the chart is behind you."

 With the pressure on, Dan loses his cool and sprays into a stutter.

 "You were doing well till you hit that foggy patch."

 Dan groans.  Although L finds that the camera likes its subject, she seems a
 little dissatisfied after reviewing the tape.  Eventually, she comes up with an
 idea.

 "Say what?" Dan splutters.

 "You heard me.  Drop your pants!"

 "Why?"

 "I fantasize sometimes that newscasters don't have their pants on.  Besides,
 it'll make you feel a little bit more vulnerable.  You were very stiff with your
 delivery."

 Dan reluctantly sheds his shoes and trousers and takes his chair behind the
 desk.  For reasons he can't figure out, Dan is more relaxed and focuses more
 clearly on his enunciation.

 "Much better," D concludes when his demo tape is done.  "Now, let's move over to
 the other side to do the stills."

 "Let me put these on," Dan says as he reaches for his pants.

 "Never mind.  I'm just going to take head shots."

 "Is that it?" Dan asks after she takes several shots.

 "Actually, I have an idea.  Do you remember the last Celine Dion album cover?
 I'd swear she was nude even though you could only see her face."

 "You're not serious."

 "I'd like to capture the real you and I think it'll work better if you're really
 vulnerable."

 Dan hesitantly removes his jacket and tie.  He unbuttons his shirt to reveal his
 navy blue Jockeys.

 "Those, too."  L smiles impishly, her gorgeous greens gawking at his fine frame.

 It's not that Dan hasn't undressed in front of a woman before.  But in the glare
 of the studio lights, he can't help but feel self-conscious when L whistles as
 his shorts hit the floor.

 "Just relax.  I'm only taking head shots."

 "Which head?"

 "Don't worry," L retorts.  "I haven't got a lens to increase magnification
 enough."

 Dan laughs as the camera begins to whir.  He is much more natural and at ease
 now as L continues shooting.

 L winds up and walks over to her subject.  "I think those were much better."
 She gazes at his symmetrical face as she moves closer.  "Not quite as good as
 Paul Newman but you do show promise."  Grabbing his cheeks with both hands, L
 kisses him for the first time.  Dan, rising to the occasion, kisses her back.

 ***

 J waves through the shop window at the young woman.

 The young woman, looking much worldlier than her nineteen years, opens the door
 to the establishment.  She has been expecting him.

 J guides his companion through the door.  She moves hesitantly and not a little
 uncertainly.  She has no idea where she is or what is about to happen.  She is
 filled with trepidation as she is engaging in an exercise that elevates her
 level of trust.  Today, she is not only blindfolded - she is ear-plugged as
 well.  She is not totally deaf but the earplugs make normal conversation and
 everyday sounds indiscernible.

 Lunch at a fast food joint had been the activity a short while ago.  But it had
 started much earlier in a brownstone building on Bay State Road.  Her companion,
 who seemed even more cheerful than usual, had approached her with his usual
 charm and suggested this novel idea.  She had been hesitant about having another
 one of her senses impaired but his kind words and kisses had worked their magic.
 She had been concerned about communication but he had reassured her and they had
 practiced a new method of interchange.  She had asked him what activity they
 would be engaging in but he had refused to tell her.  All he would concede was
 that it was a pursuit that more women than men enjoy.  He had shown her the
 earplugs and the material that he would use to blindfold her.  She had waited
 patiently as he ear-plugged her and applied the eye patches.  Her breathing had
 become shallower as he had positioned the red sleepmask over her eyes.  Her
 knees had gone weak when he began to wrap the five-yard long and four-inch wide
 red self-sticking elastic bandage around her head.

 K feels the heart pounding in her chest almost like the echo of distant drums.
 Totally blind beneath the unusual blindfold that molds itself to her face, she
 feels lost in the muffled silence, unable to find comfort in his strong
 reassuring voice.  She is not sure why she agreed to the plan.  It was the
 thrill of a new adventure, she tells herself.  She couldn't resist the thought
 of being blindfolded by him and surrendering herself again.  But the damned
 earplugs!  She hadn't counted on the alienation and helplessness she is now
 feeling as she clutches his arm tighter than usual.  Is it even his arm?  Where
 has he taken her?  She can't be at his place again because she hasn't felt the
 sensation of being transported in an elevator.  She is indoors but she cannot
 tell if anyone is around or close to her.

 K feels her hand being lifted up and she reaches out to feel fabric.  She uses
 her free hand to explore the silky texture.  "Dress?" she asks.

 The single squeeze of her hand indicates an affirmative response.  "And where
 are we or am I supposed to guess?"

 She feels the finger tracing four letters on her left palm.  "S...H...O...P...-
 Oh!  We're in a shop."

 She finds herself being led around the store.  J stops occasionally to let her
 feel some items of clothing.  After a while, she senses being led to a door or
 what she deduces is a door as J guides her hand to a doorknob.  J allows her to
 touch the walls, the mirror and the clothes hooks.  "A changing room?" she
 ventures and perceives the single squeeze.  She feels her dress being lifted
 over her head and her shoes being removed.

 After giving her buttocks a gentle squeeze, J spells a longer message on the
 palm of her hand: "Monique measure you.  You model."

 "Monk?"  J patiently spells out the name again.

 "Monique?" she translates correctly this time and feels a hand shake hers.  K
 didn't realize they were not alone.  "Pleased to meet you," she says
 perfunctorily but does not hear a response.  Instead she finds a softer finger
 trace two letters in her hand.  "Hi to you, too."  Obviously, this Monique,
 whoever she is, understands that K can neither see nor hear.

 She senses something chafe her neck before she realizes what it is.  She feels
 the tape on her back as fingers draw the tape together over the fullest part of
 her C cups.  The tape is scratchier as it is drawn over her midriff just under
 her bust.  There is a pause as the tape is applied to her waist and then her
 hips.  She feels her legs being pulled apart slightly and the tape on her
 thighs.  There are further measurements until the words 'back soon' are spelled
 on her hand.

 K waits a moment and gropes the walls until she discovers the door is slightly
 ajar.  She steps back shyly as she remembers she is clad only in her underwear
 and is not sure who can see her.  After an interminable passage, she is startled
 by the touch of a hand.  The hand guides her to the three hangers on the hooks.
 'Try on,' is the message.

 K gropes around the room again to make sure she is alone before she reaches for
 the first hanger.  K feels the velvety texture and deduces it is a short dress.
 She succeeds in putting it on and is about to pull up the zipper on her back
 when she finds it is being done for her.  The soft hand tugs at hers as K finds
 herself stepping barefoot onto a plush carpeted floor.  She perceives herself
 being twirled around slowly and realizes J must be watching her.  She cannot be
 sure who else is watching and for the first time feels a little self-conscious.

 The hand leads her back and K repeats the process with the two other dresses.
 She is more at ease by the time she has modeled the third dress.  She waits in
 her underwear again in the darkness and the stony silence until she becomes
 aware of the soft hand touching hers.  'Bra off,' is the message.

 K hesitates and guesses that Monique must be looking at her in the mirror.
 "Aren't you leaving?" K inquires.

 'No, I help,' is the reply.  She's a woman, after all, K thinks to herself as
 she reaches behind her back.  But Monique has already unhooked her brassiere.  K
 holds the cups shyly for a moment before dropping the undergarment to the floor.
 A tingle runs through her as she realizes that another woman is looking at her
 half-naked body.  Before K can guess what is going to happen next, she feels the
 fabric and soft hands on her breasts as straps crisscross over her lower back.
 K feels her breasts being supported again as the hands in front of her make
 slight adjustments.

 Monique stays to dress her in a stunning backless formal gown.  K feels each one
 of her feet being lifted in turn and discovers she is in heels.  As she is led
 out, she holds her head high.  Although she cannot see the dress, she feels sexy
 and confident.  After the pirouette, she feels a rougher finger trace another
 message: 'Lovely.'

 K smiles.  "Thank you.  I just hope you don't have the whole football team
 watching."  K feels the double squeeze and starts to relax for the first time.
 She is quite willing to try on clothes all afternoon and not being able to see
 makes it a truly novel experience.

 And that is exactly what she does.  After several changes, Monique returns and
 spells out a single word: 'Strip.'

 "No, you're not serious."  K decides eventually to take off her bra and panties.
 "What now?" she asks after she is fully naked.  As there is no response to the
 question, K fumbles around before she gathers she is alone.  She reaches for the
 hooks on the door and finds more hangers.  It does not take her long to figure
 out the fabric is lycra and that she has to try on a bikini.

 She puts it on, adjusting it as best she can in her sightless state, and stays
 put.  She senses the soft hand again urging her outside.

 "No way!" K protests.  "I can't go out like this."

 After a few moments, K feels the smooth hands encasing her body in a light wrap.
 Still a little reluctantly, she exits the change room.  She stands on the carpet
 still clutching the wrap.  She perceives his strong hands on hers releasing the
 wrap.  It falls to the floor and she feels self-conscious again.  'Beautiful,'
 is the message she receives.

 K smiles.  "Thanks."  She breathes a little easier as she feels the wrap around
 her body again.

 J smiles, too, because K isn't aware that the wrap is diaphanous.

 K models two more bikinis the same way and feels Monique's presence again.
 Sensing she is alone again, she reaches for the hangers to determine what she
 has to model next.  Her breathing gets shallower as she finally figures out what
 she has to try on.

 She stands in her stockings, garter belt and g-string, fingering the silky-soft
 bra.  She gasps as she feels the hand on her breast.  She is about to pull it
 away but decides against it suddenly.  "Oh!  I didn't know the touch of a woman
 could feel so good."

 As the hands continue to trace her curves she adds, "Monique, your touch is so
 delicate and so much more wonderful than my vain boyfriend's."

 Another message is spelled out.  'I give up.  How?'

 K laughs uproariously.  "You may have taken away my sense of sight and my sense
 of hearing, J, but I can still smell Polo on you a mile away."

 J laughs, too.  He has a lot of items to pay for - items that K will never see
 until he is ready.  It helps that he gets a huge discount as he is very friendly
 with the owner of the franchise boutique, X'cesse - a boutique geared toward
 women who are size ten or larger.  J had pointed out that they comprised 54% of
 the American female adult population.  The owner also happens to be the designer
 of the clothes K was modeling, and is looking forward to establishing a
 beachhead in three cities on the eastern seaboard.

 As J and K leave the store, Monique, who is eager to follow in her designing
 stepmother's footsteps, locks up.  There are no other customers in the shop, as
 it has not yet opened for business.  "They make a very charming and romantic
 couple," she remarks.

 The older woman, who has enjoyed the modeling session, looks out at the street
 fondly.  "Yes, they do," she concurs.  Madame X, after all, understands about
 love and other things.

 ***

 Nadia asks Olga if she has heard about the Irish painter, Peter FitzGerald.

 "No, I've never heard of him."

 "I found him by accident on the Web.  He's really a performance artist of sorts
 - he's appeared on TV painting blindfolded."

 "Blindfolded?" Olga remarks incredulously.  "But you need to see to mix paints."

 "The way he does it is that he has someone select and describe one of several
 pictures he has taken.  He mixes his paints before he is blindfolded.  He pulls
 up his blindfold only after he turns away from the canvas to mix his paints
 again.  He never actually sees one of his paintings until he has finished it."

 "That does sound intriguing."

 "Do you think you'd like to try it sometime?" Nadia asks.

 "Maybe."

 "Actually, the painter gave me an idea," Nadia smiles.  "I stopped by the Super
 Sex Shop and picked this up."

 Olga looks at the body paint set.  "Since I enjoy painting you so much, does
 this mean you now want to be a canvas instead of a model?"

 "Yeah, so this time when you paint me, you'll really be painting me."  Nadia
 peels off her short dress.

 Olga unsnaps and removes the entirely superfluous jade brassiere before pulling
 down Nadia's matching panties.  "A very inspiring canvas, indeed.  Do I use
 brushes or fingers?"

 "Painter's prerogative," the naked Nadia replies.

 Olga gathers some brushes and mixes her paints.  "I think I'm ready."

 "Let me put this on you," says Nadia as she places a jade sleepmask over Olga's
 head and pulls it over her eyes.  "Can you see?"

 "Not really but it's a little loose."

 "I'll fix that."  Nadia steps behind her and tightens each strap.  "Better?"

 "Nice and snug.  I can't see a thing."

 "Do you want me to face you or face away?" Nadia inquires, stepping in front of
 her.

 "Face me to begin with, please."

 Olga gropes for Nadia's left breast before beginning her creation.  Soon a
 sunflower emerges.  Olga begins a wheel with spokes on her right breast,
 extending the wheel with a flourish into a wing.  A potpourri of plants begins
 to emerge on Nadia's stomach as the stems trail to her dark pubic hair.  The
 masterful montage continues down Nadia's inner thighs as she struggles to remain
 still.  Olga kneels as she continues down to Nadia's tiny feet.  "Now, turn
 around," orders the blindfold artist.

 Olga begins to use her fingers as she traces the colors up the calves of her
 canvas and ever so gently to the boyish hips.  Soon, the artist goes abstract
 daubing the derriere with goo.  Olga uses a combination of fingers and brushes
 to suffuse the skin of Nadia's back.  Finally, she steps back.  "I think I'm
 done.  Can I look now?"

 "Just a minute," says Nadia as she leads Olga to a mirror and stands in front of
 her.  "O.K."

 Olga peels off her blindfold and views her masterpiece for the first time.  "Not
 too bad, even though I say so myself."

 "You're incredible!" Nadia coos as she studies the coherent, well-defined
 strokes on her skin.

 "Turnabout is fair play," Olga intones.

 "But how can I possibly compete with a Monet?" Nadia protests.  But it is too
 late as Olga is already pulling the sleepmask over Nadia's eyes.

 Nadia begins to giggle as she fumbles to find the paints.

 ***

 She is still blindfolded when she enters his apartment.

 As she freshens up, she realizes she has lost all track of time.  Although she
 has enjoyed her adventure immensely, she is glad to be alone with him again.

 He is eager to show his appreciation for her, too, and wastes no time attaching
 his lips to hers for a good part of the early evening.  He orders in and feeds
 her again as she slowly and sensually savors each morsel she is fed.

 K becomes cognizant of the sounds of her digestive system, her heartbeat and her
 breathing as she sits on the sofa.  But she is oblivious to the ring of the
 telephone.

 "Damn.  That's too bad you have to fly out so early.  I was looking forward to
 our dinner tomorrow night and having K meet you."

 "I know, J.  She is a beautiful girl and you two seem made for each other.  At
 least I've got things squared away here.  But the lawyers in New York City need
 me to finalize a few things and sign some papers.  Monique and I will stop over
 here a couple of days before we head on to Miami."

 "Then I'll get to see you again before you return to Paris?"

 "Certainment!"

 A tingle runs down her spine as he spells out: 'Playtime.'  Before he had
 ear-plugged and blindfolded her earlier that morning, J had explained briefly
 that she would undergo further sensory deprivation when they returned to his
 place.  He refused to tell her what she would experience but only said that it
 was an exercise to explore limits and that he would not hurt her.  He also
 explained how she would use the golf balls.

 'Are you game?' is the next message.

 K nods.  "You're not going to hurt me or humiliate me?"

 J traces the word: 'Never' and kisses her deeply.

 "Okay, I guess I'm ready."  K is a little less certain than she sounds.

 "What the..." utters K as she finds his strong arms lifting her up by her legs
 and back.  She puts her arm around his neck and nuzzles against him as he
 carries her upstairs.  She feels him seating her on his bed and then another
 message is spelt out: 'Change.  I'll be right back.'  Her hand is guided to the
 attire on the bed.

 K stands up and strips, her clothing falling to the floor.  She sits on the bed
 to put on the silk stockings.  She snaps on the lace garter belt that fits
 perfectly around her waist and attaches two clips to each stocking.  She pulls
 on the g-string but finds no bra.

 She searches blindly by running her hands over the bed in case she has missed
 it.  As she is leaning over the bed, she is suddenly tackled from behind and
 rolled over, the weight of her attacker resting on her body.  Fingers work on
 her ribcage and neck and she is giggling uncontrollably.  After a few minutes,
 the mysterious stranger ceases the tickle torture to allow her to catch her
 breath.  After kissing her some more, he helps her to a seated position on the
 bed.

 K senses something being wrapped around her head again.  She cannot see that it
 is the same material that she is already blindfolded with.

 J had purchased the elastic bandages in all three colors: red, white and black.
 He wraps the white bandages all over the top of her head and then starts on the
 black ones.

 K panics a little as the bandage touches her lips.  J has never gagged her
 before and she is not sure why he is doing it.  But J did say this was an
 exercise in sensory deprivation and the gag will take away her ability to taste.
 She wants to try to scream out for a moment but thinks better of it and remains
 still as the self-sticking bandages are wrapped around her head.  The bandaging
 continues for a long time and K realizes that the only part of her head that is
 uncovered is her nose.  She imagines that she must look like a mummy in an
 Egyptian tomb.

 K finds her hands are being placed in leather gloves that come up to her elbows.
 Her breathing becomes harder as she comprehends her sense of touch is
 effectively being taken away.  She feels something being placed in each of her
 hands and her fingers being made to grasp the objects.  Although she would not
 have been able to identify the objects in her gloved hands, she deduces that
 they must be the golf balls J had mentioned earlier.

 The next sensation is a leather cuff being strapped onto each wrist though K is
 not in a position to be able to identify the material.  The tension heightens as
 she feels his hands on her left ankle.

 J secures the ankle cuffs on each leg as he smiles at his willing victim.  He
 sees her quiver suddenly as he lifts up her leg to apply a thigh cuff.  He waits
 a moment before applying the second cuff.

 K detects herself being helped to a standing position and then being led a short
 distance.  She feels her legs being pushed apart slightly and then his hand on
 her left leg.

 J secures a thin rope to the D ring on the ankle cuff and attaches it to one of
 the six eyehooks he has securely fastened into the bedroom doorframe.  After
 securing the second ankle cuff the same way, he raises her left hand and ties it
 to one of the eyehooks in the top corner of the doorframe.  He does the same
 with her right hand and then steps back to admire K tied in the classic 'X'
 position.  He beholds the buxom body of the bound and blindfolded beauty before
 him.

 The intensity of the game is now evident to K.  She understands she is totally
 helpless: blind, deaf, immobile, unable to touch, taste or to speak.  All she
 can do is breathe and wait in anticipation of what will happen next.  She is
 totally vulnerable and at his mercy.  But an exotic excitement runs through her
 as she pictures herself in her mind.

 For a short while (it seems much longer to K), J does nothing.  Softly he
 presses only his lips against the bandaged lips of his victim.  He traces the
 tips of the first of his assortment of many scarves over her neck and draws it
 down to her left breast.

 K shudders as the scarves begin to dance across her body.  The textures are
 different: some touches are smooth and silky; others are rougher, probably wool.
 Every touch is a surprise, the sensation heightened in her state of sensory
 deprivation.  Suddenly, she senses a long scarf on her breasts and feels the
 ends being tied behind her back.  She feels his hands caressing her breasts over
 the fabric, his tongue tracing her spinal column, and then a gentle nibble on
 her neck.  Each slow and sensual stroke, ordinarily so simple is marvelously
 magnified.  She cannot respond to her companion - she can only surrender herself
 to this magnificent magical moment.

 J resumes the delightful dance of the scarves around her calves and over her
 thighs in between the suspenders of her garter belt, his fingernails tracing the
 'V' of her panties.  He draws the scarves rapidly across her naked bottom while
 planting delicate kisses on her upper thighs.

 K's breathing becomes irregular.  She moans softly behind her bandage gag as the
 scarves caress her crotch.  She feels an aching in her loins she has not felt
 before - an aching for this masterful, majestic man she cannot see or hear - a
 man who is turning her knees to jelly.  She longs to reach for him; to touch
 him; to kiss him; to wrap her arms around him; to whisper words of kindness; to
 tell him how sexy he makes her feel - but she is powerless and speechless.  She
 has no desire to drop a golf ball to make him pause - only the desire that seems
 to emanate from a well deep within her - a desire that manifests itself by the
 moistness of her undergarment.

 J decides to get a little circulation back in her arms and then attaches her
 left wrist cuff to her right one behind her back.  He draws a rope through the
 wrist cuffs and attaches it to another eyehook less than halfway up the
 doorframe.  He steps back to view the pretty picture, pausing to allow her to
 appreciate the predicament of her new position.

 The next sensation K discerns is the smell of incense permeating her nostrils.
 She allows herself to be tortured by his touching, his tickling, and his tasting
 of her as his tongue traverses the unclad portion of her body.  She is again
 alive in the moment, lost in his artful attention, oblivious to all else.

 She feels her hands and legs being released from the doorframe.  Part of her
 does not want the experience to end.  She senses a long silky scarf circling her
 back and being crisscrossed over her breasts and tied at the back of her neck.
 She feels a scarf being bound just above her knees.

 J attaches her left wrist cuff to her left thigh cuff and does the same on the
 other side.

 K struggles to deal with the new binding, fearful she is about to lose her
 balance.  Without warning, she perceives herself tilting backward and his strong
 arms lifting her up until she lands on her back across his big brass bed.

 Much later, J lowers the lights.  He undoes and removes her ankle cuffs before
 doing the same with her wrist and thigh cuffs.  Alternately tickling and
 caressing her, he unties the scarf on her legs.  Much more slowly and between a
 multitude of kisses, he undoes her breast wrap.  Helping her to a sitting
 position, he slowly and sensually unwraps the bandages and removes her earplugs.
 For an eternity, K stares at him and says nothing, reveling in the amazing
 freedom she feels from being freshly released from bondage.  She then wraps her
 arms around him and holds him close to her, never wanting to let go.

 ***

 J is relaxing and watching TV, replaying their date of three nights ago in his
 head.

 He marvels at how far K has come and the bond that they share.  He continues to
 be amazed by her sensuality, her ease and the level to which her trust in him
 has escalated.  The ring of the telephone jars his reverie.

 "Hello!" he booms.

 As J listens, he shakes his head in disbelief.  As he falls to the floor, he
 barely recognizes his voice as the words emanate from his lips.

 "My God!  Oh, no!  It can't be..."  His voice trails off.  "She's much too young
 to die!"

 ************************************************************************
 Author's Note:

 Readers of this story may make a copy for their personal use.  The author's
 permission is required for any other use or dissemination of this story in any
 form, any such use acknowledging me as the author of the work.  The author has
 granted permission for this story to appear on 'The Blindfold Page.'  Author's
 E-mail address: trevain@home.com
 ************************************************************************
 A Tale of Three Cities  Trevain  (1999-12-12)