It was light outside, obviously early morning, but he couldn’t see a clock and was not about to move a muscle to look for one. It had been warm in the bedroom the night before, and the windows had been left open; now it felt cool and dewy outside the warmth of the blankets – and the warmth of the nearly nude dark-skinned woman snuggled up tight to him, sound asleep, her head resting on his shoulder, her long black hair spread across his arm and chest. He almost pinched himself to see if this dream was real, but it didn’t seem like a dream; it really did seem real – and he could not bring himself to disturb the perfection of the moment in any way.

He lay there, his arm around her under the covers, listening to the gentle, even breaths of her sleep, and let his mind roll back over the events of last evening. As incredible as the day had been, the evening had ended almost more incredibly, if that was possible.

They’d stood there by the front door for a long time, just kissing and hugging and touching after he whispered back to her words saying that he’d honor her wish. He could not clearly remember how they’d wound up in her bed, with him still wearing his shorts and her wearing panties, but nothing else, nor could he remember how long it had taken but it had not been a short time. As they lay there kissing, bodies close, things went a little automatic for him, touching, caressing, exploring, tickling a little, using hands and tongue – things he’d known for a long time, but things he’d learned from Frenchy and Shirley as well, rather more the latter than the former. He hadn’t thought about that much, just that it was the right thing to do. He was enjoying those things so much – and she clearly was, too – that he was not in any hurry to press onward beyond them. She was moaning and giggling and squirming with the joy of his touch like he’d never had happen with a woman before – and then all of a sudden he’d felt her tense, let out a scream of ecstasy that turned into a series of breathless moans, as she grabbed onto his back – hard – and her body convulsed in time with her moans, and it went on and on and on. Wow, good one, a real good one, he thought as she lay panting to catch her breath.

Then, though her deep breaths, she really surprised him: "Danny . . . Danny . . . " she tried to say. "What . . . the hell . . . was that?"

"I can’t say for sure," he smiled, not really understanding, "but it sure looked like a first-class bedwrecker of an orgasm to me."

"That was . . . an orgasm?" she panted. "Danny, I never . . . I mean, are you sure . . . oh, my spirits . . . that was wonderful . . . you’re kidding . . . we never even . . . got close . . . to screwing."

"You’ve never had that happen before?" he frowned. "That was just a little moderate foreplay, warming up for the main event."

"Not even close," she said, pulling herself together a little now. "Danny, I never knew it could be like that. It . . . it surprised me, the power. And that was moderate foreplay? My spirits, I was like modeling clay, every time you touched me it was incredible . . . you were playing me like a violin . . . what a fool I was!"

"Fool?" he frowned.

"To stay with Kenny as long as I did," she said. "I never knew foreplay could be like that. His idea of foreplay was ‘brace yourself.’"

"Oh, my God," he said sorrowfully. "Debbie, I’m sorry."

"Oh, don’t be sorry," she said. "Be happy for me that I finally found out. And if that was moderate, what is the advanced stuff like?"

"If that was your first orgasm, maybe we’d better hold off until another time," he suggested. "Sometime when you’re not quite so tired and excited."

"Oh, but Danny, I want . . . but yeah, I am tired . . . but my spirits, how wonderful . . . "

"Just relax and cuddle up and hold me," he said softly. "Just let it go. Enjoy the mellow, don’t talk. If you want I’ll play you like a violin again, but you need to pull yourself together a little so I can start."

"Oh, Danny," she said softly. "Thank you . . . thank you . . . "

He continued to hold her tight, caressing her lightly with his hands, kissing her lightly, not caring at that point whether she pulled herself together or fell asleep, as he felt a profound satisfaction with the woman in his arms – and what he’d taught her. He lay there for a while, perfectly, serenely happy for the first time in God knew when. A hell of a lot more roads to his future seemed open than they had twenty-four hours ago, when he’d been down near Camden with Anson on Beepit.

That was last night, and now it was morning, as perfect a moment as he could remember. How long he lay like that, just holding her, still enjoying that profound peace, he did not know and did not care. Almost sadly, eventually he felt her move a little, felt her breathing pattern change a little, and he moved his head down a little to get a better look at her head on his shoulder. He could see her open her beautiful brown eyes, twist to look at him . . . and just look for a minute before she said softly, "My spirits, you are real. It wasn’t a vision."

"No, I’m pretty sure you’re real, too," he smiled. "But if you are a dream, you’re the best one I ever had."

"Did that really happen?" she said. "Or was I just dream walking, having a vision?"

"Seemed pretty real to me," he smiled, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "Although, really, you have to be the one to tell me."

"I can’t believe that you never . . . I mean, we never . . . or did we?"

"Not that I recall, either," he said.

"Are you sure you’re not a tamboura?"

"Tamboura?"

"A spirit that entices impressionable young maidens to steal them away from their families?"

"Not as far as I know," he laughed. "Again, you have to tell me, you’re the katara."

She let out a sigh. "Maybe it just as well that we didn’t actually do it." She shook her head and continued very softly in an amused voice, "I wouldn’t want you to think that I’m the kind of girl who gets laid on the first date."

He tightened up his grip for just a second. "Well, actually," he teased. "On first impression, I see that two different ways."

"How do you see that?"

"Well, at the Redlite Ranch, even though we didn’t actually have sex, they would definitely have considered that a party." She frowned, obviously not liking the sound of that, but before she could say anything, he continued, "On the other hand, it doesn’t matter, because that wasn’t our first date. Or maybe I should say this isn’t."

"How do you figure that?" she smiled.

"Our first date was lunch yesterday. This is our second."

"Oooohhhh," she smiled broadly, pulling herself up to kiss him hard. "In that case . . . "

He played her like a violin again, only this time, he managed, two or three different times, to get her near the point of orgasm but not let her over it. Over the period of well over a half an hour the tension level built in her to the point she was nearly incoherent.

As he slipped his knees between hers, he had her babbling madly, "Oh, Danny! Please! Fuck me, please, please."

He positioned himself, felt her grab madly for his eager tool to guide it in, and then, at the last instant, couldn’t help himself. "Hey, Debbie," he whispered lightly in her ear.

"What?" she babbled. "Oh, Danny, please, what . . . "

"Brace yourself."

They were both laughing madly for the next several seconds, but they were doing something else, too, something that they enjoyed far more . . . and in time, he felt her buck and convulse and moan under him, grab onto his back hard to ride it out – and that set him off, as well . . .

Damn, that was good.

They lay together for a long time together, just holding on, caressing, touching, kissing, enjoying the perfection, enjoying being thoroughly sated, for the first time in . . . forever. For the both of them. It could have gone on for a long time, and as far as Danny was concerned, it could have gone on all day . . . but that led to a nasty, unwelcome thought. He twisted his head to see the clock on Debbie’s bedside stand, then stiffened, said "Oh, shit!" and threw back the covers.

"Danny, what’s wrong?" she asked, alarmed.

"I’ve got to be down to the store in fifteen minutes, there’s some guy coming in about a chest freezer!"

"Do you . . . oh, of course you do," she said sadly.

"Can I use your shower? And, hell, I can’t go to work without shaving, do you maybe have a razor around here?"

"Sure, head for the shower," she said. "I’ll find the razor."

"Good, thanks Debbie," he said. "Jeez, sorry."

"Don’t be sorry, you have to do what you have to do," she said, following her naked lover toward the bathroom. The hot water was running in seconds and he was in the shower, while she scrabbled in the drawer for a disposable razor. "I don’t have any shaving cream," she said.

"Fine, just hand me the razor," he said, sliding the shower door back. "I’ll fake it."

It took a few minutes to finish getting ready, and a few more minutes to get across town to the store. He didn’t have a lot of time for thinking, but ye Gods, what a wonderful day, a wonderful night. He quite literally felt like a new man . . . he slid into the parking space behind the store at two minutes to nine, unlocked the back door, started throwing switches, and raced for the front door, unlocking it just as the guy interested in the freezer pulled up out front.

As it turned out, the race had been for nothing; the guy looked over the demo, said he’d think about it and talk it over with his wife . . . three chances out of four it would come to nothing. What a fucking . . . literally fucking waste . . .

He hadn’t worked out anything with Debbie about getting back together this afternoon, but he could call her in a few minutes, probably just run back out to her place after he’d delivered the washer and dryer. He went back, turned on the computer and a few more lights, and heard the bell on the front door ring. He looked up, and there came Debbie, dressed in a tank top and short green skirt, carrying two foam takeout boxes with two big cups of coffee precariously balanced on top. "Hey, Danny boy," she smiled. "You left without your coffee."

"Why, Miz Elkstalkah," he said in a fake Rhett Butler accent, "Ah do declare that ya’ll have honored me deeply with yoah thoughtfulness."

"Hey, I needed breakfast too," she said as she set the stack down on the corner of the desk. "We really did eat a little light yesterday, at least for me for normal."

"I was sort of wondering," he said. "But you said you were on a diet, so I didn’t ask."

"I’m on a permanent diet," she told him. "Danny, I’m about eighty pounds less than I was at my peak. It has not been easy to get it off and keep it off. My bathroom scales are my best friend and my worst enemy. But I admit that I like my latest addition to my exercise program."

"I thought you took to it pretty well," he smirked.

"Danny," she said, shaking her head as she took the lid off her coffee cup, "I told you, I never dreamed it could be like that. And that was after all that time with Kenny. I’m still not sure you’re not a tamboura."

"I don’t think I am," he smiled. "I honestly don’t think I’m the world’s greatest lover."

"You’re so damn much better than Kenny it isn’t funny," she snorted. "Shit, he would never have even thought to do some of those things. This morning was wonderful, even better than last night, but I don’t understand how you could send me so high last night and not want something for yourself."

"That’s not an easy question to answer," he said. "Look, we have to talk about the Redlite Ranch again. It changed some of my attitudes and perceptions in ways that I haven’t told you about."

"Pretty obviously," she said. "You must have had a lot of practice."

"No, like I said, the deal was that I had to keep my hands off the merchandise," he said, knowing that he was lying, but no way could he bring up Frenchy and Shirley. Hell, he would never have believed being with Shirley himself, but what that old woman had taught him! She was literally a katara of sex. "But look. Most of the time, I was standing back behind the bar, polishing glasses and like that. Now, like I was saying yesterday, there were lots of different girls there, lots of reasons for them being there, lots of different interests right? But what do they all have in common? Let me tell you, they talk shop a lot."

"I can imagine," she giggled.

"No, you can’t," he said. "Hell, I was there and I still can’t imagine it. Debbie, I spent five weeks in an atmosphere that was almost surreal. I had never even dreamed of the amount that they talked sex, how freely they did, how technical and professional and detailed it was. I mean, just standing back there and polishing glasses was a real education in what worked and what didn’t. I learned stuff that we never even got close to touching on last night. Now, if you want to work on some of that stuff sometime, I’ll be glad to pass along what I learned."

"After the sales job you gave me last night, I’m ready," she laughed. "But you evaded my point. How could you send me so high and not get something for yourself?"

"Think about it," he said. "Look at it from the viewpoint that I picked up there. What is a prostitute supposed to do?"

"Well, have sex," she shrugged.

"Be more specific," he prompted.

"I don’t follow you. Have sex for money?"

"Close," he smiled. "Give pleasure for money is my take on it. Now, the attitude I picked up from them is that many really don’t care about pleasure for themselves. Oh, some of them don’t mind if they happen to get it, but for several reasons they want to maximize the pleasure their clients get, money being the root objective, of course. If the client gets a good party, they often give tips, and the house doesn’t get a cut on them. And, it can involve return business. Depends on the client, of course, but some of the girls think they can give more pleasure when they’re in control of all their senses, not on the edge themselves. Surprisingly often, giving pleasure doesn’t even involve real sex. What I took out of that is that my goal should be to maximize my partner’s pleasure, and not care about my own too much. If my partner approaches me with the same goal, well, it can be interesting."

"I . . . see," she replied thoughtfully. "I think you’re going to have to teach me some of that stuff. In a way, I guess I’m glad Kenny didn’t know it. I might have stayed with him longer."

"Consider yourself lucky," he said. "But, you didn’t really know it, either, right?"

"Well, no," she said softly. "I learned a hell of a lot last night."

"It’s surprising how many people don’t know it," he said. "A story. One slow morning, the first few days I was there, I was sitting in the front, talking with the shift manager and a couple girls. The buzzer went off, and this guy and girl came in. That doesn’t happen much. So, the two girls and the shift manager went out to the lobby for the lineup, and I sat back in the dining room, filling napkin holders or whatever. But, the shift manager left the door to the lobby open, so I could hear what was going on. Anyway, this guy and this girl told the shift manager that they wanted to try a threesome, that their love life had gone flat and they thought they needed something to perk it up."

"So they went to a bordello?" Debbie replied, eyes a little unbelieving.

"Where else is the easiest place to pick up a third party without any unwanted side effects?" Danny shrugged. "Well, anyway, one of the girls on duty didn’t do women, but the other one, a girl I’ll call Mary just for the sake of using a name, she went both ways. So, they headed back to her room, they worked out a fee, and it wasn’t a small one. Well, they were gone a long time, long enough that the shift manager got a little worried, so she switched on the intercom just in time for us to hear the most ecstatic catlike yowl from the customer girl. I mean, I heard it too. You got a little close last night, but that must have been the Nevada state championship bedwrecker. We pretty well figured that was that, but they didn’t come back up front, so after a while the shift manager headed back to see what was going on, and she could hear the head of the bed banging against the wall and another one of those primal scream orgasms."

"Sounds like this Mary had to be giving them a hell of a party," Debbie grinned.

"Well, by then, that’s what we all thought," he smiled. "A long time later, the three of them came back up front, and out to the lobby door. They got in a three-way hug, talking very softly, and you could feel the electricity and smell the ozone from the next room. Well, finally, Mary came back in and told us what had happened. A serious lesson, Debbie, that’s when I started listening to those women."

"What happened?"

"Mary has been in the business quite a while, she’s been around the block a few times," Danny smiled. He was actually talking about Frenchy, but that was a name that he intended Debbie to never hear, no matter what happened. "They got back to her room, and she started asking this couple what exactly it was they wanted to do. Well, according to Mary, they couldn’t actually explain it and never really said it, but she picked up pretty quick that they knew how to have sex a little, but they’d never really learned how to make love. Most people think they’re experts, and they’re not. Mary really is. So, she sat there on the side of the bed and coached them. Little things like touching, kissing, some of the hot spots, well, some of the things I used on you last night. Like you, this girl had never had an orgasm until Mary sat there for three hours coaching them on how to do it together. She said the first time she touched either one of them that three-way hug they did out in the lobby."

"I see," she nodded. "That’s kind of sad when you think about it."

"It’s more than a little sad. Debbie, one of the tough things about a place like that is that you never know how some of those stories come out. Prostitutes have broken up a lot of marriages over the centuries, but I like to think that this time a prostitute saved one. At least, gave it a hell of a lot better shot at being successful."

"That’s a different story, all right," Debbie nodded.

"Now, do you want to know the really sad part?" he said softly. "I think I told you that Marsha had been a lesbian for a long time. I found out afterwards that it went back even before I was going with her. I don’t want to go into all the details, Debbie, but Marsha and I never once had an evening halfway close to what you and I did last night and this morning. I can’t help but wonder how things might have turned out differently if we’d had a counseling session with Mary ten years ago."

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