Nicholson Baker - The Fermata

“You never know,” said Sylvie.

Marian looked at them both and laughed happily. “God it’s nice to see young love,” she said. “Are you two lovers, then?”

They both nodded. “We’ve made love thirty-two times in two months,” said Sylvie proudly. “In fact,” she continued, putting a fond arm around Kevin’s waist, “we were just going out for a little ‘drive,’ because Kevin’s mother doesn’t like us going up to his room anymore — which I can understand.”

“Ah, a little ‘drive,’ ” said Marian. She looked at Kevin with amused surprise — the employer surprised at the precocity of the employee.

“Yeah,” Kevin agreed, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the road. “We’ll probably go on over to the fish hatchery.”

“Well, terrific,” Marian said. “Have a glorious glorious time, you two. I wish I could … I mean, I wish you well.” She shifted a little on the brass tray and felt the thick steadfast dilderstatesman issuing official pleasure-briefings down her legs and up to the warm unforgotten Fijis of her nipples. It was so fucking hard —so hard to keep from saying the things she wanted to say with it deep in there: she wanted to yank up her wet dress for them and say, “Go on and fuck each other silly! Take a good look at this monster cock jammed up my butt! I want you to look right at my asshole crammed with this big fat dick and then go out and fuck and suck each other and slam your bodies together!” Her skin prickled with the almost irresistible wish to be obscene. But all she said was, “I must say, I envy you both a little. I’m just sorry I can’t get up and see you off …”

Sylvie was immediately full of concern. She touched Marian lightly on the arm. “Are you okay? Can we help you up? You know your dress has gotten a little wet.”

“I know, I know,” said Marian, “I’ve been watering everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” said Sylvie. “Isn’t it kind of cold?”

“The water’s warm. It’s from my shower. Feel.” Marian turned the stopcock on and whisked the showerhead spray once over Sylvie’s outstretched hand.

“Feels really nice,” said Sylvie thoughtfully.

“The tulips love it,” said Marian. “In fact, will you two do me a favor and pick some for each other before you go? As my present to you? Pick the ones you like most. The Etruscan Prune variety is my favorite at the moment, but choose whichever ones you want.”

Sylvie and Kevin liked this idea a lot and set to work assembling reciprocal bouquets. Now that their eyes were off Marian, she was free to move on the tray again and make pleasure noises in a whispery undertone. She watched them circle her beds. She imagined them all breathless and loving and wide-eyed in a shady spot near the fish hatchery. They were beautiful — fit, healthy, incredibly young — so inexperienced that they thought that their two-digit courtship, or coitship, made them seasoned fuckers. She knew so much more than they did. She lifted the sodden hem of her dress just a little and pointed the showerhead between her legs and let it flood her twat-cleavage. “That’s not nearly enough, Kevin — pluck more!” she called gaily, wanting to risk his hearing the irrepressible vulval surges and catches in her voice.

When they stood in front of her again, holding their tulip bunches out to her for her admiration, she pronounced both arrangements equally lovely and told them to give them to each other. This they did with great ceremony.

“Thank you!” said Kevin to Sylvie.

“Thank you!” said Sylvie to Kevin.

They kissed. It appeared that their mouths were a good match. Marian, who normally felt squirmy and put off when she was a witness to heavy public pair-bonding, watched this particular kiss with nothing but good feeling. She was the public, after all. There was some tongue-action, but it had the license of youth and looked like it felt better than it looked. They hugged each other hard; Sylvie’s heel went behind Kevin’s and she used the leverage to press her blue-jeaned mound into him.

When they stopped, Marian said, “What a great kiss! You two are obviously great kissers. You must be beautiful when you … make love. Your bodies fit together so well. I wish I could—” She shook her head ruefully, her hand on her heart, and let them laugh at the impossibility of what she was thinking, so that they could start to get used to the idea. Then she slapped her hands on her legs and said, “I tell you what. If you would like to borrow any of these toys, feel free. Really. I don’t make any great claims for them — I’m sure you can do without them, but who knows, just for fun …”

They looked indecisive.

Marian exerted the slightest additional pressure. “Pick one — or a few, even.” She felt a trickle of sweat on her back.

“What do you think, Kevin?” said Sylvie.

Kevin shrugged. “Sure, I guess, yeah.”

Sylvie and Kevin knelt, not minding apparently that their knees got instantly soaked in the wet grass. Sylvie’s face, though averted, was very close to Marian’s. “Which one would you recommend?” the girl finally asked, having touched them all lightly.

“Mmm, well—” This was just too much for Marian. She felt her resistance give way completely. “My current favorite is one I just got,” she said. “It’s called the Armande Klockhammer. As you may know, Armande Klockhammer, Jr., is, or was, a male stripper at the Golden Banana. It’s kind of big, actually. Almost too big, depending on where you need it to go.”

“Which one is it?” Sylvie asked.

Marian cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I can’t show it to you right now.”

“Why not?” Sylvie looked at her with innocent curiosity.

“I just can’t.”

“But why?” Sylvie insisted. “Where is it?”

“It’s in use,” said Marian. She looked at her two young friends and then down at her wet dress.

Kevin looked surprised. He had finally pieced it together. “You mean that all the time we’ve been here it’s been …”

Marian took a deep breath. “Up my ass, yes.”

“Up your … It’s not in your … it’s in your …?” Sylvie, pointing to parts of herself to clarify her exclamation, looked genuinely surprised.

“It feels super, I must tell you,” said Marian. “But that’s not the crazy thing. The crazy thing is how badly I want to show it to you. While it’s in there, I mean. I’m doing everything I can to keep from hauling this dress up right now and leaning back and showing you how good it feels stuffed up my tight butt. Oh man! Just thinking about it gets me going. Are you repulsed?”

They continued to look a little surprised, but not repulsed.

Marian went on. “I’m afraid you caught me at a particular moment. Kevin, you can attest to the fact that I don’t normally talk this way.”

“She doesn’t at all, no,” Kevin agreed.

“It’s dildo talk, frankly,” Marian went on. “It’s the way I talk when I’m sitting on a big fat artificial dick. What can I say? My butt is stretched so damn tight right now — I wish you could see, I really do. I wish I could show you, and I wish when you saw it in my ass you’d take off all your clothes and make love for me right here. Is that so unthinkable? I don’t think it’s so unthinkable. Kevin, I was so good last summer. Do you realize that? I thought about your cock quite a number of times, I thought about sucking it and jerking it off — I even thought of putting a sprig of parsley in your tiny little cockhole, and yet I never once did anything ! And now you’ve found Sylvie, this wonderful friendly open person, who probably sucks your cock beautifully, and it makes me feel so good that you’ve found her — it makes me want to see her suck on your cock. God, I wish I could show you what I have up my ass right now. It feels so fucking hot.” She paused. “See, that’s a sample of dildo talk.”