9. The River
By Gavin Trevain
Saturday April 3, 1999 - Early Evening - The Charles River
The Charles River is truly one of America's most beautiful rivers.
But at this moment, K cannot see its beauty. She can feel the wind off the
water as she holds onto the handrail with one hand and the waist of her guide
with the other. The thick, bright, floral scarf, neatly plicated in a broad
band and knotted twice behind her head, almost completely obscures the two
floral sleepmasks that shield her eyes.
Spring has sprung and the Charles Riverboat Company is back in business. The
season has just begun so the dinner cruise tonight is not filled to capacity.
Dinner is over and the boat is just beginning the return trip to Cambridgeside
Galleria Mall.
It has been a pleasant, romantic dinner and she has enjoyed the entire day. But
even though she is blindfolded, or maybe because she is, K senses J seems to be
quieter - almost preoccupied. Maybe he is tired or just thinking about the
grind of school as they are now in the final session of the year. Whatever it
is, as they stand in the only open part of what she cannot see is a mostly
enclosed vessel, K cannot help but think about their relationship. She realizes
they have come a long way; and, she feels incredibly close to him. It has not
escaped her attention, though, that those three tiny magical words have not yet
emanated from his lips. Will the course of their love - for surely it more than
mere infatuation now - be smooth, or will it have as many twists and turns as
this river she is now on? Where is the Psychic Hot Line when you need it?
"A penny for your thoughts," K offers.
***
Saturday, April 5, 1980 - Afternoon - The River Thames, U.K.
Sixteen gladiators, each armed with two blades, prepare to do battle on Isis.
For the next twenty minutes or so, two teams of eight men averaging 190.5 pounds
each will test their mettle, reaching into the depths of their courage and
endurance, to defend the tradition and honor of their alma maters for the 126th
time. Of course, since each team can't see exactly where they will be going,
they will each have to rely on their coxswains to steer the boat and set the
stroke. Today, both coxes are women.
Three Englishmen, three Americans, one German and one Canadian have earned the
right to race for Oxford University. Derek Exeter, representing Trinity
College, will occupy the third seat for the Dark Blues. Challenging them on
this grueling four-and-a-quarter mile excursion from Putney to Mortlake on Isis
will be the Light Blues of Cambridge University. Isis, for those outside the
United Kingdom, is known more commonly as the River Thames.
***
July 18, 1944 - Evening - The River Orne, France
The 22 year-old sergeant on the left bank of the River Orne peers through his
binoculars.
He is from the Canadian 3rd Division that landed on 'Juno' beach in Normandy six
weeks earlier - part of the largest invasion in history. He scans the locations
of the two 88 mm. (or 8.8 cm. guns as the Germans call them) that are wreaking
havoc on the Canadian and British troops that are in danger of being bogged down
and decimated. A while later, he approaches his lieutenant with a plan.
The lieutenant, tired and drawn from the strain of combat, listens closely. He
has lost a lot of men in the surrounding wheat fields and knows the Allies are
already way behind schedule. He listens to the sergeant, already twice
decorated, because he trusts him. At the end, he looks at the sergeant and
says, "But, that would be like trying to do it blindfolded."
***
April 17, 1968 - Noon - The Mekong River, Vietnam
The 22-year old chief of PBR 123 on the Mekong River looks at the decoded
message.
So far it has been just a routine day for the United States Navy crew of the PBR
[river patrol boat]. They have stopped two sampans but failed to uncover any
enemy arms shipments.
But the skipper of the boat, now on his third tour of Vietnam knows better than
to let boredom turn to complacence. That could spell death for his crew of
three. The crew is just finishing their MRE's [Meals, Ready to Eat] as he
addresses them: "Grunts under SAF [infantrymen under small arms fire]. Let's
rock 'n roll."
The 220-horsepower General Motors engine propelled by a Jacuzzi Brothers screw
roars to life and soon the fiberglass-hulled vessel is cruising at 28 knots.
The Chief pushes the Mark II engine to its top speed of 40 knots as they race
towards the firefight.
***
Saturday, April 3, 1999 - Afternoon - Warren Alpert Mall
Nadia and her companion stare out at the river as they sit on a bench.
Nadia is in a contemplative mood, several thoughts coursing through her mind.
"I'm not sure how I'm going to tell my parents. This is going to be a double
whammy."
Olga asks commiseratively, "But in your culture, aren't arranged marriages a
thing of the past?"
"With only the parents doing the choosing, yes, for the most part," Nadia
responds. "But I did meet with the boy and he seemed nice enough."
"So the only way you could avoid marriage was to attend university?"
"I just thought it would buy me some time to figure things out." She pauses
before continuing, "And I'm certainly glad I did."
Olga smiles and unconsciously reaches for Nadia's hand. "But you're worried
because your parents are very traditional?"
"Exactly. They're first-generation Americans and have generally adapted pretty
well to a lot of American customs but they still believe strongly in their
heritage."
"I guess there is no easy way out or around the issue. I think you have to face
most difficult problems in life head-on and damn the consequences. It may make
it easier if you explain the real reason why you won't marry this boy."
"Easier said than done. You don't know my father. He's just going to go nuts."
"I didn't say it was going to be easy. It may be easier, I suppose, if you're a
celebrity like Ellen Degeneres or Anne Heche or Melissa Etheridge, to come out
in the open. But for the average person, there are almost invariably
consequences, both socially and in the workplace."
"But why does it have to be that way?" Nadia asks, despairingly.
"I wish I knew the answer but I think conformity always seems to win out over
individuality. Being different seems to invite and incite all sorts of strange
actions and reactions from others. But I'm finally comfortable with who I am
and what I am and, ultimately, isn't that all that really matters?"
"I really admire your independent nature, Olga. Sometimes, I wonder where you
get your strength from."
Olga reflects a moment. "I wonder if any of us is actually independent.
Though, I suppose, you could say that someone like Cameahwait was."
"Wasn't he an Indian chief?"
"Yeah, and the older brother of Sacagawea. She accidentally ran into the Lehmi
band of the Shosone while on the Lewis and Clark Expedition and was surprised to
find him."
"Why do you say he was independent?"
"Unlike Sacagawea and other girls who were beaten, the boys were never punished
- I guess you could say their spirit was never broken and they were allowed to
be totally free to be who they were."
"I wish you could bottle some of that for me," says Nadia to the woman who is
one-sixteenth Lakota Sioux. "But I still need to think it over."
"Do that. It's a very personal decision and you need to take your time. But
just remember that I will support you - no matter what."
Nadia looks deeply into Olga's eyes, basking in their warmth "Thanks. You have
no idea how much that means to me."
***
Saturday, April 5, 1980 - Isis: Starting Line to the Milepost
Oxford wins the toss and chooses Surrey. This means they will try to limit any
advantage gained by Cambridge on the early Middlesex bend, while trying to build
a lead on the huge Surrey Bend in the middle part of the race.
Both crews do not look at each other as they watch the umpire raise his flag.
As soon as the flag is dropped, the Dark Blues charge ahead and are halfway
through their second stroke before Cambridge even complete their first. After
sixteen strokes, Oxford gains an impressive third of a length lead.
The Cambridge cox steers toward better water by moving in Oxford's direction.
The water in the Tideway is choppy given a current of close to four knots.
Oxford seems more at ease and is handling the water conditions better than
Cambridge.
Oxford maintains its lead along the Putney Reach and the umpire issues a warning
to Cambridge for steering too close. As the boats reach the black buoy, both
crews reduce their rates from 37 to 34 strokes per minute.
But now Cambridge begins to claw back, cutting the Oxford lead to a quarter of a
length. Cambridge wants to get the full benefit of the Middlesex bend and
strokes more strenuously trying to push Oxford to the left so that Oxford will
be forced to go really wide around the corner. Even though Cambridge is warned
again, their nasty tactics succeed as Oxford is forced to give way slightly.
Blades buffet as Oxford fights back immediately to minimize the advantage gained
by Cambridge. As they near the milepost, blades bang again. This upsets Derek
Exeter who considers the Cambridge tactics not cricket. But he regains his
composure almost immediately. Both crews are now rowing stroke for stroke.
It is a dead heat at the milepost. The race is on!
***
Saturday April 3, 1999 - Noon - Ames Nowell State Park
J looks out at the small boats on the water as he sits on the blanket.
His companion is unable to do so as she takes another bite of the sandwich from
his hand. "Pastrami on rye?"
"Correct again. I'm very impressed."
"And I forgive you for leaving me alone and blindfolded in the car for so long.
You obviously went to a really good deli."
"Not quite as good as the ones you find in New York City but it's not bad," J
concedes.
"By the way, where are we?"
"Outdoors. On a blanket. Couldn't you tell?"
"Gee, you're really helpful, J. Were you ever a Boy Scout?"
"I know not but I know knots."
"I know you're twisted for sure."
"But I'll bet you wouldn't have it any other way."
"You're very cocky."
"Well, if the sleeve fits..."
This does K in as she realizes she set herself up for that one. When she
recuperates, she allows him to continue feeding her. She feels surprisingly
sexy engaging in this show of sensuality, savoring the sensation of being safe
and sheltered in the sightlessness induced by the single square scarf secured
over three strapless sleepmasks.
J does not remove her blindfold when they finish their very gratifying meal. He
kisses her a long time and asks her if she is up for another challenge.
"Sure," she replies. "I'm having a terrific time. Most of all, I enjoyed you
feeding me strawberries and cream with your mouth."
"Likewise. I can't think of anyone nicer I'd like to picnic with." This time,
K searches for his lips.
After a very long and enjoyable trust walk along some of the hiking trails in
the 607-acre park, J explains the challenge. "Come on down, K. You're the next
contestant on 'Flora is Right.'"
"Have I played this game before?" K asks.
"I don't know because I just thought of it. For the first part of this game,
you're going to use only your sense of smell. I'm going to lead you to smell
three different flowers, one at a time. I won't tell you what they are but you
have to remember them as one, two or three. Then I will lead you back five
different times to smell any or all of the same flowers. And to make sure you
can't guess by figuring out the location, I'm going to disorient you several
times along the journey."
"That sounds like an interesting challenge. Let's go!"
J spins K around like a top and walks her to the first flower. After she sniffs
it, he disorients her again before leading her to the second flower.
The process continues until K has guessed five times. "How did I do?"
"I'm not telling until you finish the second part of the challenge, which
involves your sense of touch. The game is very similar to the one you just
played but it involves three trees."
"And I can touch them any way I like?"
"Sure," J accedes. "But since I'd like you to focus only on your sense of
touch, I'm going to dull your sense of smell a little by covering your face with
a scarf."
"O.K.," says K as she feels a thick scarf folded in a triangle being knotted
twice behind her head.
As K is disoriented and led to each tree, she feels the bark with both hands and
tries to see if she can touch any of the branches. She hugs the tree to try to
gauge the circumference of the trunk. After she makes her last guess, she asks
how she has done.
"You got all the trees right and missed only once on the flowers. That's ninety
percent. I'm very impressed." He hugs her warmly, removes the outermost layer
of her blindfold, and kisses her slowly and deeply.
"Oh! Please let me try the one I missed again. I thought I was perfect."
"O.K., if you insist. But you're already perfect in my book."
K squeezes his waist hard. She is led back to the flower she missed and guesses
correctly this time.
J rewards her with a kiss again. "I'd like to share something with you," he
voices. "Since we still have a little time here before we leave, I'd like you
to try a little exercise."
"What kind of exercise?"
"You could call it reflection or meditation but I like to call it 'quiet time,'"
he states. "You really should do it for fifteen minutes every day but you can
start by just doing it once a week and moving up."
"Sounds interesting. Tell me more."
"I think it's important in our busy schedules to spend some time alone just to
get in touch with ourselves. You can do this exercise anywhere but it's usually
better if you're alone. You just need to shut out the world and go someplace
beautiful and peaceful in your mind."
"Are you usually blindfold when you do this?"
"You don't have to be but I like to do it that way."
J continues, "This is a pretty peaceful place and there aren't that many people
around today so I'm going to suggest you do it under a tree."
"I'd like to try. And I can go any place I want to?"
"Any place real or imaginary. But it should be your private place. Never
describe it to anyone - that includes friends or family, even me. Just relax
and let your mind wander."
As he leads her and helps her to sit under a tree he says, "I'm going to leave
you alone but I'll be watching you so you will be perfectly safe. When you're
done, just raise your arm in the air, and I'll come over and get you."
"That was really different..." K begins. She has used almost thirty minutes
although she doesn't realize it.
"Good. But don't tell me anything about it. It's your secret, serene and
sacred place."
"O.K., I think I understand."
"For the next five minutes, I'd like you to focus on your surroundings. Get a
picture in your mind of what the place looks like. Then, I'll remove your
blindfold and you can see how close you came."
J turns her away from the sun and unties her blindfold. They spend some quiet
time together until it is time for K to be blindfolded again for the next part
of her journey.
***
Saturday, April 5, 1980 - Isis: Hammersmith to Chiswick Steps
As they pass Harrod's Depository, Cambridge inches ahead a few feet. But Oxford
battles back to clear Hammersmith Bridge first, eager to take advantage of the
vast Surrey bend.
There are actually three stages to the Surrey Bend. Oxford advances around the
first corner with a clear advantage. As they round the next bend at St. Paul's
School, Oxford is half a length ahead. Derek Exeter knows this is now a
critical time in the race. If they can break ahead of Cambridge on the third
Surrey bend, they should be able to take Cambridge's water for the final
Middlesex bend.
But the combative Cambridge cox steers closer again to try to minimize Oxford's
advantage. The crashing of blades rattles the Oxford crew, breaking their
concentration. The tension is evident in the faces of both teams but Oxford
starts to lose ground.
The Light Blues are now rowing in better rhythm along the straight and they are
actually moving faster than Oxford. Derek Exeter and the rest of the Dark Blues
are starting to get disheartened as they have failed to deliver the deathblow on
the Surrey bend, which has now almost run out.
As they get to Chiswick Steps, the crews are dead even again but Cambridge's
confidence is cresting.
***
Saturday April 3, 1999 - Afternoon - The Charles River Esplanade
L peers through her lens out at the river.
Dan watches her as she sets up her shot. He is glad of the time he is spending
with her though she doesn't consider this to be a date. His fine clothes, fancy
car and financial condition seem to make no impression on her. He isn't even
sure if she is remotely interested in him but he finds her fascinating.
An older couple, holding hands, pauses for a moment to take in the view. L
walks over and asks permission to take their picture.
After she takes the picture, Dan asks, "Why did you ask their permission?"
"Just a polite thing to do. Besides, I don't like people invading my privacy.
Not that there is too much privacy today."
"I guess you're referring to the run-ins between celebrities and paparazzi?"
"Actually, I was thinking in a broader context. Everything from credit cards to
government eavesdropping."
"Government eavesdropping?"
"Yeah, they now have the technology to monitor almost every electronic
communication - everything from phone conversations to E-mails anywhere in the
country. Naturally, it's done by computers that are programmed to look for
certain key words but that means that millions of totally innocent
communications will be looked at or listened to by the snoopy snoops, and
possibly stored forever."
Dan is happy that she has stopped rhyming and that she is actually talking in
long sentences. "But won't they need congressional approval to do it?"
"It wouldn't surprise me if they're doing it already. Besides, the way politics
works in this country, they simply have to bribe a few senators with some
government projects for their states."
"You seem to take a cynical view of politics."
"Hell, yes. With the organized lobbying and the obscene amount of money spent
by candidates to get elected, we probably have more sanctioned bribery than any
other country. It's amazing to me that these same politicians are hypocritical
enough to condemn corporations for doing the same thing in third-world
countries."
"You're not suggesting that bribery in any form is defensible?"
"Hardly, but the pot shouldn't be calling the kettle black."
"I gather you're not that thrilled with Corporate America, either."
"Lucky guess!" L laughs.
"Any particular reason?"
"Several. You probably have no concept of this but some people actually have to
work for a living. Think of all the major corporations in the last decade or so
that have fired loyal employees before they qualify for pensions or fired older
experienced workers just to replace them with younger, cheaper ones. Think of
the major shoe companies that use or used what amounts to slave labor and child
labor. Think of the multitude of mergers that eliminate jobs. Think of
environmental abuse - should I go on?"
"You make your point eloquently." Dan is at a loss to argue with her for all
her anecdotal evidence is correct.
"The biggest problem is the ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor.
Consider that Bill Gates, a single individual, made more money last year than
the bottom half of the entire working American population. Hell, if this trend
continues, I think we'll be on the verge of another Revolution or Civil War, and
a bloody one at that."
"I suppose some might argue that the bigger threat is the knowledge gap," Dan
interjects.
"I wouldn't argue with that. Our public education system stinks and continues
to turn out functional illiterates."
"Is there anything you're high on?"
"The American spirit. It lives in the hearts of individuals with ideals and
dreams and it cannot be stifled."
"That almost sounds like an autobiographical statement."
"I guess, to some extent. I want to make my living doing what I enjoy doing and
doing it well. I want to achieve success on my own terms, sort of my version of
Bohemia."
"You're not referring to the song by Mae Moore?"
For the very first time, L is impressed with something other than his looks.
"She's such an obscure artist, I'm sure most Canadians have never even heard of
her."
"You forget I like music, too. I loved the album and the title song is one of
my favorites."
"I loved the sentiment that prejudice is something that we can transcend," L
remarks. "You know that I told you that I go by my middle name, Ange, out of
respect for my grandmother, whom I was named after, because I feel that her name
belongs only to her. But did I tell you about my last name?"
"Fitzgerald? No, but that sounds about as Irish-Catholic as it gets."
"Except that I'm not Irish-Catholic. I'm Italian. Our family name is really
Fitzini."
"I'm confused."
"Do you remember that in this town people once used to put up signs saying,
'Help Wanted - Irish need not apply'?"
"I seem to have heard that."
"Well, during the Second World War, work in the New England shipyards was pretty
scarce if you had an Italian or German name. So my grandfather changed it in
order to put food on the table. I almost think I'd like to change it back."
"To reflect your Italian-American heritage?"
"I hate being thought of as a hyphenated American. For the same reason, I think
African-American is not particularly flattering to black Americans. Hell,
either you're American or you're not and that's the end of it." Almost as an
afterthought, L adds, "Did that line from the song have any significance for
you?"
Dan doesn't answer her for a moment. He reaches into his wallet and pulls out
something that he hands to her. "He died a few years ago but I still carry a
picture of my grandfather."
He doesn't have to say more because a picture is truly worth a thousand words.
There was a time and a place when being both Polish and Jewish earned you
several indignities, including the loss of your self, which was signified by the
number tattooed on your wrist.
L looks at the picture of the emaciated man and says nothing. But the gesture
of compassion as she places her hand on his shoulder speaks a thousand words to
Dan.
Shortly thereafter, as Dan walks her back to the car, he holds her hand. It
seems like the perfectly natural thing to do.
***
July 19, 1944 - Early Morning - The River Orne, France
The cloud cover obliterates the moonlight making it impossible to see.
The young sergeant and three other volunteers wait on the edge of the left bank
ready to jump into their two rubber rafts. The roar of the German 88-mm. guns
punctuates the deafening silence. Orienting himself by the flash of the guns,
the sergeant yells, "Go!"
They never give the Canucks the easy jobs, he thinks to himself. Constantly
facing the cream of the German Army, the Canadians fought courageously to
achieve their objectives, but not without cost. Ten days earlier and four weeks
behind schedule, the Canadians had taken Caen, carefully clearing the town of
snipers, booby-traps and mines. But most of the Jerries had escaped over the
River Orne, blowing up bridges as they went. The Jerries are now shelling the
Canucks and the Limeys from the outlying suburbs of Caen. At least this bridge
is intact and the sergeant realizes that the only way to get the Allied tanks
across is to take out the big guns. All this to give the damn Yanks an
opportunity to break out...
The sergeant and a private man the first dinghy while a corporal and a private
follow in the second. They row silently and blindly across the Orne anxious to
make it across before the guns erupt again.
In a short while, they reach the right bank. Quickly, they disembark and secure
their rafts to a tree. They remain in the cover of the woods waiting for the
next barrage. The sergeant has gauged the distance to each of the two gun posts
in his mind. He will take the far post with one of the privates, while the
corporal will be responsible for the other.
They wait for the next flash of the guns to give them a visual cue. They race
like bats out of hell and lie prone near each of their objectives. They lay
their Mills bombs [grenades] in front of them. The sergeant has already worked
out the timing sequence. He counts slowly to ten as the next flash dies down.
"Now!" he whispers to the prone private. They each pull the pins on four
grenades that work on a seven-second delay, and start lobbing them in order.
Twin explosions light up the night as the two German gun positions are
obliterated.
They are already running while the last grenade is in the air. But the blast
makes them visible to the enemy. The sergeant hears a deafening ping that
knocks him to the ground. Instinctively, he reaches up to his head for any sign
of a wound. He breathes easier for a moment and is about to start running again
when he hears a yelp of pain.
"F**k, I'm hit in the leg, Sarge!"
"Can you walk, Mac?"
"Don't think so. Leave me here and carry on Sarge."
"Shut the f**k up, Mac. You're coming with me."
The sergeant lifts the private over his shoulders and continues to race.
Eventually, he reaches the other two men and the rafts.
"Back across the river, Sarge?" the corporal asks.
"We'll be sitting ducks. I think it's time for Plan B. We'll be safer if we
can get to a house and hole up till the good guys show up."
They scuttle the rafts with their bayonets and make their way to an abandoned
building. They tend to Mac's wounds and decide to stay put for the night. As
the sergeant takes the first watch, he has one thought on his mind. You dumb
sunavabich, if you ever survive this f**king war, you better hook up with that
fine Georgia peach you met in New Orleans - even if it means giving up your
country for her.
***
April 17, 1968 - Afternoon - The Mekong River, Vietnam
The chief in the Brown Water Navy steers the patrol boat around to provide a
better target for his gunners to provide covering fire. He has already spotted
the boonie rats lying low on the shore, occasionally firing their M-16's and
M-60's in response to Charlie's RPD's and AK-47's.
"Looks like another cluster f**k, Chief!" yells his second-in-command.
"Not if I can help it. Take the conn." He orders his gunners to open fire as
he leaps off the boat and starts wading to shore. As the 50-cal guns of the PBR
enter the symphony, he is already waving to the GI's.
"On to the boat - most ricky-tick!"
The grunts don't need much encouragement. One lays back to fire an M-79 grenade
launcher as his three buddies race to the boat. Soon, he races to the boat as
well.
"Dung lai!" It is a weak cry to stop but it doesn't elude the chief's ears. He
scans the jungle to see a writhing man in uniform, his head and both eyes
heavily bandaged.
"Leave him," says the soldier that has just fired the 79. "He's just a f**king
slant!"
Yeah, right, the chief thinks to himself, and an Arvin [a soldier in ARVN - the
Army of the Republic of (South) Vietnam], to boot. He races toward the wounded
man and starts to carry him toward the boat.
The explosive pop of a Kalishnikov rattles the chief's ears. But the next sound
deafens him. From out of nowhere, an enemy 82-mm. mortar explodes on the shore.
The pain in his left leg is searing.
"Lay chilly!" yells his second-in command. Like I could move even if I wanted
to, thinks the chief.
Hands help him and the bandaged soldier back on to the ship. The chief's last
act before he loses consciousness is to turn over command of his boat. He never
gets to find out the name of the man he rescued or whether the man even
survived.
Several days later on board a freedom bird, the chief realizes that, for him,
the war is over. And, he decides, so is his career with the Navy. He is going
back to school when he gets stateside. As for the rest of his life, he is not
sure if any woman will want to hook up with a BK [below-the-knee] amputee.
***
Saturday, April 5, 1980 - Isis: Chiswick Steps to Barnes Bridge
Cambridge makes their big move as they reach the bandstand at the end of the
Surrey bend. They are stroking better now and continuing to inch ahead, eager
to break free - which will be the death knell for the Dark Blues.
Derek Exeter and the rest of the crew can sense the Cambridge lead increasing
and have to give everything they have just to hang on to the Light Blues. But
do they have enough?
As they approach the last bend, Cambridge is one canvas length away from
breaking free. But the Dark Blues are not ready to give up even though they
know they have almost certainly ceded the last corner to Cambridge. With
incredible determination and drawing deep into their reservoirs, they fight
back.
Their valiant efforts are rewarded as they manage to erode Cambridge's margin
slightly.
Cambridge clears Barnes Bridge first, a half a length ahead of the Dark Blues.
It is now only three minutes to the finish line.
***
Friday, April 2, 1999 - Evening - J's Place
"It's been a long day and I'm still behind on an assignment."
"You don't have to work on it tomorrow, do you?" J inquires.
"From the sound of that question, I gather you've made some plans for tomorrow."
"Actually, I have," J states.
"I'd like to get back reasonably early tomorrow evening so I can get an early
jump Sunday."
"And until tomorrow evening...?"
"I'm all yours!"
"Be careful what you ask for..." J begins, as he kisses her again.
"Because I just might get it?" K grins.
"Wishful thinking, my dear." J does a really bad W.C. Fields.
Very soon, they end up on the couch and K notices most of her clothes are
magically disappearing. "Hey, how come you still have all your clothes on?"
"It's getting kind of late to go out so if it's O.K. with you, maybe we'll just
eat in tonight. I think it might work better if at least one of us answered the
door with our clothes on."
"Well, I'm hungry now. What were you thinking of getting?"
"How about if I surprise you?"
K expects to be blindfolded but he just puts headphones on her. J speed dials
Paolo's Pasta Palace and places his order. K notices the twinkle in his eyes as
he removes her headphones and helps her to stand up. Her eyes open wider when
she sees what he has in his hands.
J dangles the padded handcuffs in front of her. "Are you up for a game?" he
asks, as he helps K to her feet.
"I guess." K's spine is already tingling.
"First of all, I don't want you to panic. These handcuffs are not the kind that
tightens on your wrists. As a safety measure, it's also usually a good idea if
you're ever handcuffing somebody to something to give him or her an escape in
case of an emergency."
"How do you do that?"
"By tying a thread on to the second key," J explains, as he attaches the string
to the cuffs. "Put your hands in front of you."
K complies and J snaps on the cuffs. K is able to release herself without too
much difficulty.
"Of course, the task is much more difficult if your hands are not in front of
you and you are blindfolded," J continues. "Now, put your hands behind you."
As K crosses her wrists J snaps on the cuffs again. "You want me to try to
escape?"
"Not yet, Houdini," J entreats, "although I might give you a chance to practice
later."
"So where's my blindfold?" K asks, breathlessly.
She get her answer as she sees J take a cloth blindfold which looks like a
cut-up sheet that has been folded several times into a band. In addition, she
observes that a small triangle has been cut into the fold. She watches as the
cloth is brought towards her eyes and enters into darkness as the blindfold is
knotted behind her head. She feels his fingers on either side of her nose
adjusting the cloth slightly and a second knot being tightened behind her head.
"Can you see?" J inquires.
"Nothing, not even a sliver of light," K replies.
"Good!" says J.
For a few moments, J does not speak to allow her to settle into her sightless
state. K finds her balance a little off as her hands are fastened behind her
back.
"You look incredibly beautiful, K." J admires her form clad only in green silk
panties.
K smiles as she pictures herself so helpless standing in front of him. "Thanks.
But what nasty things do you have in store for me?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out," teases J as his arms encircle her
body and his lips meet hers.
K enjoys the sensation of his lips and the tender caresses of his hands. It
feels almost more delicious and sexy since she is unable to reciprocate with her
hands. She feels his breath, his lips, his tongue, his fingers and his hands
alternating across her breasts, her belly, her neck, her back and her thighs.
So far, K thinks to herself, this seems very similar to the 'Lewis and Clark'
game they had played before. She is disappointed when J suddenly stops after a
few minutes.
"What are you up to, J?" she asks.
"I'm going to spin you around now," he responds.
K allows herself to be rotated several times. She discerns his hands on her
arms as he guides her, hesitatingly, into the kitchen. She feels herself being
released and hears the sound of the fridge door opening and slamming. She is
not sure what to expect next but is surprised to savor his lips on hers. K
jumps suddenly as she feels an icy-cold blast on her back. "You dog! What was
that?"
J responds by pressing the ice-cold can of pop on her thigh. It was the freezer
- not the fridge - door that J had slammed. J takes a frozen Popsicle and
twirls the tip around each of her nipples, his lips following closely behind.
"Ice-cube?" asks the blindfolded girl.
She receives her answer as she feels the Popsicle first on her lips, and then in
her mouth. "Ooh! Orange. You fooled me on that one."
After a while, J helps her to sit cross-legged on a tablecloth he has laid on
the floor. He pours two glasses of red wine and holds one glass to her lips.
"Sip."
"Hmmm...That's good! But don't ask me to guess the kind of wine. I'm not a
connoisseur. But I know it's red since it's at room temperature."
J places his face under her boobs and pours his wine into her cleavage. The
blood-red river runs down her valley and over her hills into his eagerly
awaiting mouth.
The doorbell rudely interrupts the novel wine tasting.
"Oh! That's smells terrific," states K as J returns to the kitchen and starts
opening up the containers.
"Since you're not in a position to feed yourself, I'm going to have to do that
for you. Also, I seem to have run out of utensils," J lies, as he lays out the
four half-orders of different kinds of pasta.
K feels his fingers scooping the food into her mouth and has to guess what she's
eating. "Penne in a tomato sauce," she ventures.
"Right," J concedes.
"Cheese tortellini?"
"Damn, you're good"
J drops some tortellini in her navel and fishes it out with his mouth. He slops
some fettuccine alfredo on her breasts, sprinkles some parmesan cheese on it and
licks up the creamy white sauce. He offers his dish some of the fettuccine with
his mouth.
K is enthralled and delighted with this delectable, delicious, sensual feeding.
Being unable to see what she is being fed, every mouthful and mode of delivery
is a surprise.
J coils some linguine around her nipples and slurps it off. K giggles but J is
careful not to tickle her too much as he does not want her to choke. More red
wine follows until the meal is finished.
J wipes off his dish so that he can enjoy his dessert. His dish is not too
cooperative as it squirms when he uses a towel soaked in ice cold water.
J starts to feed his helpless companion several flavors of ice scream. When it
gets to be his turn to eat, he dumps some on her breasts and comments, "Just
what I like - two giant scoops."
K giggles. "Chocolate or vanilla?"
"Today, it's definitely chocolate!"
His dish shudders as he laps up the ice cream for he starts to tickle its ribs
and belly.
K is in near hysterics by the time dessert is over.
"Since you're such a messy eater, K, it looks like both of us are going to have
to get cleaned up for the next event."
"You mean there's more?" asks K as she tries to catch her breath.
"Why soitanly! Nyuk, Nyuk!" J mocks. It is another really bad impression.
"I hope you have a day job, J," K chides.
"Not yet but I'm working on it. As soon as I clear these dishes, I'm going to
take a shower and draw you a bath."
"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
"Practice being Houdini. Maybe you're better cut out for showbiz than you think
I am. If you succeed, you must still keep your blindfold on and remain in the
kitchen."
K hears J dump things into the sink. She fumbles for the key. Suddenly, she
feels the waistband on her panties snap and she lurches off the floor. This
only exacerbates her condition. The handful of ice cubes dampening her derriere
is now spread out even more.
After a while, J returns clad in a terry robe. "Oh dear, I think my baby needs
changing."
"No thanks to you," screams K who has not succeeded in freeing herself.
J helps her to her feet and guides her slowly and carefully up the stairs to the
bathroom. He undoes her cuffs and removes her blindfold. "I've even got your
favorite shampoo. Take your time and meet me downstairs when you're done."
K enjoys a relaxing bath and meets him downstairs donned in another terry robe.
She notices the comforter laid out on the living room floor and some clothing on
top of it.
"What are these?" she queries, feeling the silky material.
"A couple of pairs of my boxer shorts. The game I have in mind requires at
least one of us to be totally naked. If you like, we can both be naked or you
can put on a pair."
"Now?"
"A good a time as any."
"O.K."
J puts on a pair as she puts on the other. J undoes the sash of her robe as he
draws her closer and plants a long one on her. As her robe falls to the floor,
J rubs the silk against her backside. "The waistband has Velcro - let me adjust
it for you."
After she kisses him again she asks, "Are you going to explain this game or are
you just going to torture me some more?"
"Well, it's a very advanced sensuality game I've never played. Actually, it
will probably work better as a challenge."
"You mean this is a competition and there is going to be a winner and a loser?"
"Yes, and the loser will have to wear a blindfold until morning."
K is intrigued. "What do you call this game?"
"Scent of a Woman."
"You mean like the movie where Al Pacino plays a blind guy?"
"I guess. Or if we're both playing, I guess you could also call it, 'Scent of a
Man.'"
"Scent? So does this game involve the sense of smell?"
"Exactly. There is a theory that different parts of the body have slightly
different odors. I think it would be fun to put that theory to the test."
"And since we're both sparkling clean, this would be the time to do it?"
"Would you like to go first?"
"Why, soitanly!"
J fastens a couple of sleepmasks over her eyes. He takes a long oblong silk
scarf and folds it into a three-inch band. He places the middle of the scarf
low behind her head. He draws the left end over her left eye and the right end
over her other eye, crossing the ends above her nose. He ties the ends behind
her head. "How does that feel?"
"It feels very tight, almost a little uncomfortable."
"Take a minute and see if you can get used to it. If it's still uncomfortable,
I'll retie it. The longest I'd blindfold you like this would be thirty
minutes." He holds her in his arms and kisses her.
"O.K. It doesn't feel too bad, now."
"Make me naked."
K pulls down his boxers gleefully. "What's next?"
J helps K to her knees. "This is the pre-game warm-up. Smell this for five
seconds."
K is giggling nervously. "Would this be the fruit that have escaped from the
loom?"
"Aw, nuts!" J's having a hard time keeping serious, too.
"You said that too cashew-ally."
J turns around and bends over, moving his hands behind him. "I'm spreading my
cheeks to help you."
K guffaws so loudly she almost unwittingly becomes an honorary member of a
reasonably well-known musical group - the Butthole Surfers. J moves aside and
has to help her off the floor after her seizure subsides. Eventually, he is
able to complete the circuit with K sniffing the remaining body parts: hand,
foot, hair, armpit and open mouth.
"Are you ready to start the game?"
"I think so," whispers K who is in very real danger of lapsing into
cachinnation, which could result in the ruination of J's machination sprung from
his imagination.
J has her lie on her back, still blindfolded, on the comforter. He raises her
arms above her head and handcuffs her. He rings the chimes. "When you hear
that sound, it will mean that one of the seven body part is one inch from your
nose. You sniff for five seconds and guess. I won't tell you if you're right
but I'll keep track of your guesses on this notepad. You will have twenty
turns. Each body part must be used at least twice and no body part can be used
more than four times. If you accidentally touch a body part with your nose, it
doesn't count, and you have to try again. Got it?"
"Yeah. I'm just glad we didn't have beans for supper."
"It's an ill wind, K..."
"You crack me up, J." He loves her sense of humor, among other things.
J stands over her and begins with his hand.
"Foot," she guesses.
Later, J puts his boxers back on before removing her blindfold. "You did really
well."
"How many did I get right?"
"Twelve. That's sixty percent."
"O.K., I guess it's your turn now."
K has a hard time keeping serious as she maneuvers her naked body next to his
nose. She dutifully records his guesses. After his twentieth turn, she
challenges him to unlock his handcuffs before she gives him the result.
"O.K., but if I can't get them undone in fifteen minutes, you'll have to release
me."
"Sounds fair. I'm just going to get myself a drink."
"Oh! Would you get me a Coke, please?"
"Sure," says K as she reaches for the boxers she was wearing earlier.
When she returns, she looks at J - unlocked and un-blindfolded, grinning at her.
J picks up the notepad and jumps for joy.
"I can't believe you got fourteen right!" K says, dismally.
"I am the champion of the world..." J starts to sing like the Queen tune, only
nowhere near as well as Freddy Mercury.
As he looks at the disgruntled loser, he wonders how he will blindfold her for
the rest of the evening. The thought crosses his mind that it was good that he
had chosen to wash his hair with Ivory body wash rather than that very smelly
shampoo. Even in a friendly competition, it's always nice to have an edge.
***
Saturday, April 5, 1980 - Isis: Barnes Bridge to Finish Line
With less than three minutes to go in this punishing race, Cambridge is still
trying to break free while Oxford is doing everything it can possibly do just to
hang on.
With nothing more to lose, the Oxford cox call for a rate increase. The pain
Derek Exeter feels is mind numbing but he knows the other fifteen warriors must
be feeling it, too.
The last desperate measure seems to be paying off as Oxford reduces the deficit
to a third of a length. Soon the deficit is down to a quarter of a length.
Just about a minute from the finish line, Oxford draws even. Cambridge makes
their last push. Derek can feel his muscles screaming in agony and the pain
tearing his gut. There is only adrenaline left now as his mind commands his
body to do what it desperately does not want to do.
The crowds on Barnes Bridge and the shores are cheering wildly. Will this be
the second time in history there is a dead heat at the finish?
Not if the Dark Blues can help it. Their cox continues to exhort them. Derek
collapses as the Oxford boat crosses the finish line. The margin of victory is
a canvas length!
Totally spent and exhausted, Derek is nonetheless exhilarated for, to him, there
is no greater joy than winning a boat race. But looking at the Cambridge crew,
he knows there is no greater agony than losing a boat race. Derek will soon sip
the victory champagne with his crew but there will be a second bottle of
champagne later for a personal celebration. This is the day he plans to ask the
diplomat's daughter to become 'Mrs. Exeter' or perhaps more appropriately,
'Madame X.'
As he looks at the crestfallen Cambridge crew, Derek Exeter has a thought:
On this day, as anyone can see, there is one river, one race, one boat.
***
Saturday April 3, 1999 - Sunset - The Charles River
As he looks at the serene Cambridge skyline, J has a thought:
On any day, as only few can see, there is one race, one boat, one river.
"It'll cost you a dollar - inflation, you know," he says, as he proceeds to
remove his companion's blindfold.
But he doesn't answer her question. He just draws her near and kisses her
deeply. Holding her still, one son of a son of a son watches the sun set.
***
Sunday, April 4, 1999 - Morning - Meandering and Confluence
At the College of Communication on the BU campus, a director and an editor are
putting the final touches to their team project.
"You've done a magnificent job, especially with pacing the flashback sequence,"
extols the director of the work.
"And may I say you're well on your way to becoming the next Ingmar Bergman?"
"This is becoming a mutual admiration society," says the young European blond,
as he moves closer to her. "So I have to tell you that I admire you not only
for your work but as a person, as well. I would really like to get to know you
better because I've been attracted to you for a long time."
K stares into his ice blue eyes a long time before answering. "I think you're
very attractive, too, Siggi..."
Meanwhile, in the seventh floor corridor of the Four Seasons Hotel, a young MBA
student from BU is saying goodbye to a not unattractive older woman.
"Dinner tonight at Aujourd'hui?" he asks.
She smiles, hugs and kisses him. "I'll make reservations for seven o'clock."
As he heads to the elevator, he notices a blonde setting a room service tray
outside the door of another room. He glances at her casually as he hears the
ping and the doors slide open. He doesn't give it much thought for he doesn't
know her.
The witness to the entire exchange bursts back into the room. "You'll never
guess who I just saw all over a strange woman!"
B, idly tweaking a nipple on her creamy boobs, looks up at her new lover.
"Who?"
B's jaw drops in disbelief at the answer. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. And it looks like they've planned another rendezvous tonight."
B looks at her new lover again. Not that there really is a new lover in her
life - it just feels like it. For the 'blonde' is really a blond. Farnsworth
Bradley Inverarity, when he puts his mind to his clothes, wig and make-up, makes
a very convincing woman.
************************************************************************
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 novel to appear on 'The Blindfold Page'. Author's
E-mail address: trevain@home.com
************************************************************************
A Tale of Three Cities Trevain (1999-09-24)
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