Wanda

Slip back into Johnny's, Part Eight or into Part One or into Part Two or into Part Three or into Part Four or into Part Five or shoot off to Part Six. Or to Lee.

Yes, I'm married, but it's become a marriage of convenience, a marriage in name only. It's not his fault, completely. I was too young to get married. We have a house in Jersey City with a view of lower Manhattan, and I've managed to see that we have no children. Someday I may want them, but only with the right man.

Johnny's what I'm interested in now. We fight sometimes. I'm the jealous type, even if I am married to someone else. Johnny's jealous of me, too. It's not like home.

For the past four years the arrangement with my husband has been that I work nights. I like it this way, and if he decides he doesn't like it anymore, then I'll divorce him.

Often, Johnny is living out there with all those in Dreamland. That's my high-quality opinion. And within him are the remains of an ancient genetic force, but that's not what's important right now.

What's important right now is this girl who's been coming in here. She's trying to work Johnny, but it's not going to happen. Right now I'm just watching, but if things progress I'll have to take action. And I know what to do.

Part of my interest in Johnny is simply sexual. I'm unsure about the proportions. Sometimes I think it's 100%, and this idea bothers me. I'd like to believe that my attraction to him is at a higher level, or that sex is just part of The Big Mix. But he takes control of me when I am hot, and he gives forceful direction to my aroused energies.

We hooked up at a fundraiser for the mayor that was being held at the Metropolitan Opera. My husband had done some work at City Hall, so we were invited. When I first saw Johnny, he was looking right into my eyes. We ended up talking for awhile there in the lobby, and then he took me downstairs and we sneaked into some alcove near the swank women's restroom. It was a fast-moving thing.

He kissed me as soon as he pulled the curtain, and it was like a fast-acting drug. I was quivering and squirming -- the way he held me and kissed me and pressed me back against the wall. It sent me off. When he pulled my dress up, I was out of my head. I'd never felt anything like it.

These days, though, I hold back on Johnny. Sometimes. Why shouldn't I? He holds back on me. He says we'll never get married, as if that's what I dream about.

I'll take it this way. I think I prefer it this way.

Go back to Part Nine or to Part One or back to Part Two or Part Three or Part Four or Part Five or drift on up to Part Seven