Strip Tease

Life's tapestry is woven in intricate, often overlapping designs. Complicated patterns sometimes emerge as repetitive, the only variation being a subtle change in the hue of color. As with these patterns of tapestry, the people in our own life will pass through randomly; the intervals are sometimes brief while other times their stay is for a longer period. There are times that their passing plays such an insignificant role that they go almost unnoticed. Only our subconscious levels acknowledge their existence.

For me, such was the case with Brian.

Thus far Brian has appeared on numerous occasions as an intermediary. His impact on my life was seemingly insignificant in the beginning. But, each incident of his presence was always highly charged with tension and emotion.

He has not crossed paths with me in over a decade. But, he remains in my memory with true warmth and rich hot fantasies of his dark side. To understand how the two of us related one must first understand some of the background of our first encounters.

Long ago, in what seems like another lifetime, but in actuality was only twenty years ago, Brian made his first appearance. I was married at this time to my childhood sweetheart, Alton. Alton was my first love as well as my first lover. No matter what level of quagmire or what hurts we bestowed upon each other, we still seemed to maintain a rich steamy sexual aspect between us.

By far Alton's sexual curiosity and desires surpassed mine. After all, my entire sexual exposure began and revolved around him. When he wanted to teach me how to suck his cock, he ran Hershey's syrup over his erection and instructed me to close my eyes and lick it all of until there was no lingering evidence of it ever having been there. When his orgasm erupted within my mouth and coated my throat with his thick syrup, I swallowed in amazement. I continued to hold his cock between the roof of my mouth and my tongue while I rested my head upon his abdomen. His penis began to shrink away from my lips. How I love that moment when a man is semi -erect, thick and rubbery to the feel!

It was with zest and enthusiasm that I approached this venture we were about to undertake. We were going to see BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR, starring Marilyn Chambers. Was I ever excited! Nervously excited is probably more accurate! After all the South was still the South no matter what century it was. The political climate was one of intolerance towards such pornographic matters as "dirty movies".

This was the fifth and final night that the movie was scheduled to be shown. I checked the newspaper every day for stories of it being raided by our men in blue, the New Orleans police department. There had been none. So, I did not believe we'd been jeopardizing anything by going. This wasn't an election year so just maybe tolerance would prevail.

Wrong!

Alton and I took our seats in the balcony overlooking the sparsely filled audience. Curiously, most of the audience was comprised of couples. The most obvious exception was the group of six young men two rows behind us. Having noticed that each had on dark slacks, white dress shirts with boring ties, and a trench coat draped over his knee, I whispered to Alton as the house lights began to go dark, "Either that is a circle jerk of young professionals, or we're about to be raided!"

Voices originating at the projection booth, the film halted abruptly, and the house lights became bright. Looking over my shoulder I was able to see one of the neatly dressed young men showing what could only be his badge to the projectionist. His deep baritone voice seemed to boom through the theater as he announced, "Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention! I am Sgt. (his name was lost in the blur of panic that crept from the pit of my stomach) with the New Orleans Vice Division. The performance for this evening is over! All of you should collect your belongings and leave immediately!"

Mortified, I reached down to put my shoes back on and grab my purse. Alton did not wait for me. He was already down the stairs and waiting by the exit sign as I began to descend the stairs. It is still not clear to me even today what happened next. All that I can remember is the fall down the flight of about six stairs. Stunned and shaken, I tried to get up. A hand was extended to me as one of the young detectives helped me to my feet. Once assured that I was steady and unhurt, he handed me my shoe with apologies. I was too embarrassed to even make eye contact with him. The heel had completely snapped off my shoe. Luckily, other than the embarrassment of being "caught" at the theater and the humiliation of my ungraceful fall, I was otherwise unharmed.

We left that night without getting to see the film I so much wanted to see and without the money we paid for admission. Patrons were not hassled. The theater staff and owner, however, did not fair as well; all were arrested .

A few years later Alton's and my love/hate relationship became volatile. A bottle of Jack Daniel's had replaced me as his primary love interest. The marriage ended after thirteen years in divorce. Although I had reached a plateau emotionally, I no longer liked the man; my love had been diminished by a bottle of booze! Still, there was a lot of history between us. I could not understand the venom he felt towards me. Divorce was like war! Attack, counter attack, retreat, defense! If he had died my grief would have been easier than the betrayal and rejection of that ugly mess.

In the twilight years of marriage, I had gone to work with the specific intent of saving enough money for breast implants. When I reached my financial goal, I changed my mind and used the money as a down payment on a shiny black BMW.

During the divorce the "enemy" captured my car. Alton not only refused to return the vehicle to me; but he went to extreme measures to prevent me from taking it back. He kept heavy chains wrapped through the steering column and the drivers seat and secured them with several pad locks.

Stubbornly refusing to accept defeat and give up the only possession that was in my own name, I developed a plan of action. Armed with only a copy of the auto registration showing me as the owner, I placed a telephone call to the New Orleans police and requested that they meet me at Alton's office to mediate the return of my vehicle.

Twenty minutes later a patrol car with two officers arrived. After introducing ourselves, I explained the situation and showed them the document proving me the legal owner of the BMW. They went into Alton's office. What they said or how Alton responded I do not know. I waited nervously outside pacing the parking lot.

Shortly thereafter, the office door opened and out stormed Alton. His face was red with rage. He glared at me with daggers shooting from his heart and eyes. Ironically, his anger empowered me, made me stronger, determined to see this through and get back what was rightfully mine to have.

He began removing all of his personal possessions and removed the locks and chains. From his key ring he removed his copy of the car keys and handed them to the officer. Just as the officer turned in my direction Alton called him back to confer with him. Alton reached into his pants pocket, took something out, and handed it to the policeman as he pointed in my direction. A sickening smirk crossed his face as he took another emotional blow in my direction.

The policeman shook his head as though bewildered as he walked in my direction. How handsome he was! Dark wavy hair cut close to his scalp, intense blue eyes, and a confident posture and well defined muscular frame! "Ma'am, he returned your keys and asked me to give you this. He said you'd understand."

I laughed when I saw Alton's "gift", a quarter. His message was clear. Once again he was calling me "a two-bit whore". Where this use to hurt me, that day I found it humorous; I almost felt pity for Alton.

"Would you mind, sir, doing one more service for me? Return this to him and tell him, 'The Lady said no thank you. This one is on her!" He grinned at me with a co-conspirital nod.Secretly, I had hoped that handsome man in uniform would find me equally attractive and take my telephone number from his report. But, that was not to be.

Three years later, I found myself the only female sales representative in an otherwise male dominated field. The guys took me under wing and treated me like part of their family. We often went to lunch together. After a while they ceased to think of me as a female and instead just included me as one of them. The result was frank and interesting conversations that almost always referenced sex directly or by innuendo.

The topic of one Friday afternoon was pornographic movies.

"I've always wanted to see BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR but have never had the chance!" I went on to share the story of my misadventure.

"No one's life is complete until they have that experience." joked my friend Larry. "Today may be your lucky day, little Sister. Wait here, I have to make a phone call."

When Larry came back to the table. He had the look of a little boy who had decided to play hooky from school. Devilish! Precocious! "O.K.! It's all set. Can you clear your calendar this afternoon?"

Jumping to the hint of adventure I replied without even checking my appointment book, "Sure! But, what's up?"

"We have an invitation to a friend's house for a private showing of a movie! He's expecting us about three o'clock. Let's get rolling and I'll pick you up at the office."

Summers in New Orleans can be unbearably hot! The humidity drains your energy. As I got into Larry's car, I removed my suit jacket and draped it over the seat. Perspiration had formed between my breasts.

"There a couple of cold six packs in the back if you want to grab us a couple." Larry maneuvered the car into the traffic congestion on Veteran's Highway. We rode in relative silence, content to sip our beer and let the tensions of the week fade.

Breaking the silence, I asked, " Exactly where are we going and who is going to be there?"

"It's cool, Diana. Brian is an old friend of mine from my days on "the force"." He said those words with such pride and a touch of remorse. Larry had to retire his uniform and give up forever his passion for police work; he had injured his back and gone out on a disability pension. "You'll like him. Brian is good people. Besides he single! He's good looking! And he has a copy of BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR."

Larry squeezed my hand and smiled a reassuring smile. Feeling content and at peace with the world, I closed my eyes and relaxed into the counters of the bucket seat. A Willie Nelson tape played in the background as his words "blue eyes, my baby's got blue eyes" lulled my senses.

I must have dozed, for I roused as the car turned into a street lined by a stand of trees. The limbs of the tree on the right side of the street had entwined with the limbs from the tree on the left side forming a canopy of shade as far as the eye could see. The homes were older, small, the yards well manicured. The neighborhood presented the aura of serene respectability. Odd, I thought, that this environment would be where I would finally have the opportunity to witness this film that had so long eluded me.

Larry nonchalantly parked the car with the wheels resting on part of the lawn. Instead of waiting to ring the doorbell to announce our arrival, he honked the horn several times in a short repetitive series. I remember thinking it must have been a secret code of some sort for the front door opened almost immediately after he took his hand away from the horn.

The two friends hugged each other in greeting patting the other's back affectionately. I did not think this strange for Larry had told me of the brotherhood that existed between fellow policemen. Larry turned to me and said to his friend, "Brian this is the woman I've been telling you about. Diana, this is my friend Brian."

As we made eye contact, I stared at him intently as he did the same to me. There was something about him that seemed so familiar, so comfortable. It was as though we each recognized the other, already knew each other; but, had no basis for this knowledge for we were in actuality just being introduced.

It was Brian's day off so he was dressed in hangout clothes, cutoffs and a tee shirt and barefoot. He was tall. About six-foot would be my guess. His hair was black and his eyes a deep blue shade. By my standards, his physical attributes were a solid ten!

After the glare of the afternoon sun, my eyes had to adjust to the living room darkened by the drawn curtains. The room was furnished in true bachelor tradition; an overstuffed chair, a well-worn brown couch, one lamp, a battered coffee table, and an elaborate entertainment wall with the top of the line stereo equipment and a massive selection of tapes and records. A television was in the center of the shelving system. On the floor ready and waiting was a projector with the film already spooled and threaded. In the corner was the screen, which would soon be filled with sensuous images.

Brian offered us a choice of Barq's Root Beer or Dixie Beer, pointing us toward the kitchen to make our own selection. I chose the soda while Larry opted for the beer. When we returned to the living area Brian was lounging on the couch, arms behind his head, bare feet crossed at the ankles. He looked like he was ready for a Sunday afternoon of football. "Make yourselves comfortable," he invited. "And Larry, you can flip the switch any time you're ready."

After starting the projector, Larry leaned up against the chair where I was sitting. Having already discarded my shoes, I curled my stocking feet beneath me. Momentary anxiety filled me as the reality of the situation took hold. I was about to be one of an audience of three for a private viewing of perhaps the most provocative movie ever made.

As the images filled the screen I forgot all else. The premise was that of a young woman abducted and brought to a theater where an audience awaited her arrival. She was soothed and ministered to by another woman in preparation for the events to follow. She was to be adoringly ravished on stage before the eyes of all to see. So physically and psychologically stimulated was I by the premise that my imagination transcended my reality. It was as though the experience were my own. The tempo of the music began a tribal almost ritualistic beat. An African warrior with an engorged penis made his way ceremoniously to the bed where the girl lay. He entered her as his body kept pace with the music. My own breathing became rapid, my body temperature rose and my panties were damp with the juices flowing from my vaginal lips.

I looked form Brian to Larry; they were as absorbed in the story. Feeling comfortable that neither was concerned about what I might be doing, I discreetly positioned myself so that the heel of my foot touched my clitoris.

On the screen the young actress was responding with abandonment to all inhibition. She met his every thrust enthusiastically. The couple made and held eye contact as the wave of orgasm passed through them.

Throughout the scene I had been gently rocking, creating a friction that stimulated my own genitals. My own orgasm rushed through my body.

Gently tapping Larry on the shoulder, I gestured for him to allow me to get out of the chair. "Are you O.K.?" he whispered.

Nodding affirmatively I tiptoed out of the room and into the sanctity of the bathroom. Once safely inside, I locked the door. Standing in front of the sink as I splashed cool water on my burning face, I saw my reflection staring back. Twin images having a silent conversation with the other. "Now you've done it! What next? Are you courageous enough to march back in there and reclaim your seat as though you had been watching I LOVE LUCY reruns; or, are you going to slither out the backdoor and hope not to be detected?"

The decision was made for me as a light tap came at the door and Larry's familiar voice complained, "Hurry up in there! There's a line formed out here! I have to whiz!"

Opening the door tentatively, Larry pushed it open and squeezed passed me playfully swatting my behind. He unzipped his pants and took out his organ and began urinating before I was even out the door.

The sounds of music drifted from the living room. It was definitely Willie Nelson's "You Are Always On My Mind". The room had been cleared. There was no evidence that five minutes earlier we had all been watching a couple in the throes of wild sex. I was really grateful that they had been so thoughtful.

Calling out to Brian I asked, "Are you a Willie fan, too?"

"Want something to drink?" Brian asked from the kitchen. He handed me a beer before I could answer. Making small talk he asked about my job, Larry's and my relationship (friends, definitely just friends!), and how it was that the afternoon we had all shared had come about.

I told him the story of my early misadventure or fiasco of being raided before I had a chance to see the movie. He laughed. And then asked me questions about my life.

"I feel like I know you, Diana. You are so familiar. What school did you go to?"

"That is definitely not the key! I went to an all girl's school."

"Rule that out. Where did you work before?"

"Mostly in my ex's business. That was BD of course. Before divorce. I spent about ten years there. Landry & Associates right off Robert E. Lee Boulevard."

Brian looked puzzled, surprised. He reached out and took my hand as he guided me back in the living room. We sat facing each other on the couch. Hesitantly, he said. "I know this is going to sound strange. But, bear with me."

"Bare what? What am I missing?" Larry interjected as he took a seat in the chair.

Brian looked at his old friend and asked, "Isn't it about time you got home to the wife and kiddies? No offense, buddy, but three is a crowd!"

"I can take a hint. But, Diana goes with me. I drove her here."

"If it is agreeable with Diana, I'd like her to stay. I'll take her back to her car."

That decided, Larry left pretending to pout and have hurt feelings at being asked to leave so abruptly.

Almost immediately, Brian picked up the conversation as though there had never been an interruption. Granted that I did not know him well, but he seemed intense. "Do you believe in fate?"

"If you mean predestination, no, I don't. If you mean something that results from the twist of the cosmic tumblers, yes, I do. Why?"

Shaking his head as though he was really pondering what I had just said, he blurted out, "This is not the first time we've met, Diana. I'm sure of it. Do you still drive a black BMW?"

"How did you know what kind of car I drive?"

"I just can't believe it! Diana, that night you fell down the stairs, you didn't look at me. And, it was me that helped you up when you lost your shoe. You were so embarrassed that it was almost cute. The day you called the department for help, it was me that answered the call! You were really a tiger that day! It was me that had to deal with that shit for brains ex-husband to get your car back."

I was awestruck and at a loss for words. The threads of unconscious memory took the form instant recall. The events we shared in the past flashed before my eyes. How ironic that the thread that brought us together again would be my desire to see this movie! I even forgot to ask if his copy was actually the original from so many years ago.

Two days later we went to dinner. We didn't talk much. We just stared into the others eyes and smiled a lot. Over dessert, Brian asked me whether or not I had been turned on by the movie we had shared.

"Who wouldn't be! What a head-trip! Try to imagine being abducted, soothed to passivity, sexually ravished, and passionately responsive all within the same evening! That would be an emotional roller coaster ride!"