Mark Dunn - American Decameron

With a sigh: “Yes. That is truly astonishing.”

“May I step in and demonstrate our wonderful new product?”

Amelia shook her head. “This isn’t a good time.”

“Perhaps I may come in for a few minutes only? I’m eager to have you hold the easy-grip, ebonized wood handle. And we have three different brushes, each of which is earning the praises of thousands of housewives just like yourself.”

“I really don’t think—” Amelia shook her head. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so pushy.” The young salesman pulled a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and offered it to Amelia. “Please…”

Amelia took the handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

“The fact of the matter is that my husband bought me a new vacuum cleaner just last month. We were married in early June. I’m sorry to say that it isn’t an Energex. It’s a Hoover. He even bought me a Hamilton Beach carpet washer — the industrial kind that professional carpet cleaners use. He wants me to be very happy in our new domestic life together. But I’m not.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? I would love to have someone to talk to, provided you don’t try to sell me a vacuum cleaner I don’t need.”

“I don’t suppose one cup of coffee would put me too much off my schedule. And I have been feeling a little draggy this morning.”

Amelia held the door open for the man to enter. “Oh,” she said, patting her eyes again. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Ray. Ray Gurson.”

Ray set all of his demonstration equipment down on the floor near the front door and followed Amelia to the kitchen. Over her shoulder, Amelia said, “I also have some muffins. I made them yesterday. Do you like muffins?”

“I do, madam. Very much so.”

“You may call me Amelia.”

While Amelia was making coffee she spoke of her husband. “Do you know him? Chester Bream. The Breams have been in Richmond for three generations.”

“I don’t know too many of the non-Quaker families.”

“You’re a Quaker?”

“I grew up a Quaker. I don’t know what I am now — just a vacuum-cleaner salesman, I guess.”

“I don’t know anybody in Richmond. Except a woman who lives down the street. Her kitchen is an electrical fire hazard, but that’s all right because her husband’s a fireman. And of course, I met some of Chester’s family and friends at the wedding.”

“That’s a beautiful Hoosier cabinet.”

“Chester bought it for me. He loves me very much. That’s the problem. I wonder if I can ask you a question. You’re a man.”

Ray nodded.

“And I don’t get to talk to too many men who aren’t my husband, as a rule. I didn’t have any brothers. And my father was shy — wasn’t very comfortable discussing certain things.”

“Certain things?”

“Don’t you love the smell of brewing coffee? It infuses a room with such a wonderful aroma. I drank tea earlier. I don’t know why. I don’t know what I’m doing these days. Now may I ask you, Ray — you seem like a man of the world — is it a natural thing for a husband to want his wife to urinate on him?”

Ray blushed. And choked. “I beg your pardon?”

“My new husband. He has this proclivity. He didn’t speak of it before we were married. But then afterwards — just last night, in fact — he asked me if I would squat over his stomach and pee all over him. He said that a lot of men enjoy this sort of thing. Is it something that you enjoy, Ray?”

Ray remained speechless for a quarter of a minute.

“I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you. Well, there’s my answer, and I thank you for it. I knew he was a freak. I held out hope that maybe I was just a little behind the times. After all, it took me a while to acquire a taste for bathtub gin. And I very much like my hair long like this. I didn’t see why I should bob it. But it just seemed to me that a husband asking a wife to pee on him was something very much outside the norm.”

Ray stood up. “I should be going.”

“You think I’m joking? I’m not joking. I threw my husband out of the house last night because of this. The very thought of it. Disgusting. And that awful way that he begged for it.”

Amelia closed her eyes and shook her head.

Ray took a step away from the table.

“Before you go, I really would like you to tell me: Is this the sort of thing you would ever ask of your wife? I don’t see a ring on your finger, so I’m speaking in terms of your future wife. Would you ask her to empty her bladder all over you? Would that excite you?”

Ray shook his head. Then he said emphatically, “No, it would not.”

“Just as I thought. You’ve been very helpful, Ray. Are you sure that I can’t talk you into staying for that cup of coffee? I promise to change the subject.”

Ray shook his head again. “I really must go.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“Please. Give it no more thought.”

Amelia was going to walk Ray to the front door, but he fled too quickly for her to keep up with him. In his haste he dropped the cleaner’s library brush attachment (for the cleaning of portieres and draperies) and Amelia had to call after him and have him return momentarily to retrieve it. Then she watched him run down the street as if someone were chasing him.

She sighed.

It had felt very good to give voice to it. It felt even better to see Ray’s appalled reaction. So her equally appalled reaction the night before hadn’t been unreasonable! This gave her a warm sense of vindication.

Amelia went into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet and relieved herself. She had been holding her wee for hours, knowing that once she released the urine that had been stored for so long inside her, the image of her husband would appear in her mind’s eye, writhing happily beneath her. And it would disgust her anew and make her question once again why she married a man who turned out to be so strange, and strange in such a repellent way.

Yet as she sat and urinated, the feelings of repulsion seemed to be receding. It was a most amazing thing. In that moment Amelia came to recoil from her husband and his proclivity just a little less. She even considered, for argument’s sake, the logic of his position. That micturation was a natural act, and if he took delight in this natural act, especially when it involved the exclusive participation of his new wife whom he dearly loved, could not the case be made for there simply being those things that exist in this world in which some may find delight that others do not fully understand?

Amelia Bream spent the remainder of the day giving additional thought to her husband’s position. It was a messy thing that he wanted her to do and he would be fully responsible for the cleaning up that it required, even if that cleaning necessitated the use of her brand-new industrial Hamilton Beach Carpet Washer. But Chester was a good man, a handsome and prosperous man, an officer in the Richmond Kiwanis, a man who loved every little thing about her, even those things that he had yet to learn.

Such as the fact that she liked her toes sucked. Licked and sucked hard — like the heavy-duty suction of a Greater Energex vacuum cleaner.

That evening Chester returned. Amelia greeted her spouse with loving arms. Then she whispered sweetly into his receptive ear, “I want to pee on you, Chester. And then I want my toes sucked. And later we’ll have raspberry cobbler. I baked it for you this afternoon.”

Leonora Wallace was going blind. Glaucoma. Her mother knew this. Her friend Amanda Squalls knew this as well. Amanda worked in the Detroit Police Headquarters Building in Greektown. She was a file clerk in the Traffic Division.