Bette's Four Bold Tasks

She stood, kissed my lips, then went to her dresser. From a drawer she retrieved her diaphragm case and a tube of contraceptive jelly. She prepared and inserted the diaphragm in front of me.

Bold.

She returned the tube and empty case to the drawer and retrieved a box of condoms.

"Would you mind terribly, Stephen? It would help me relax a lot."

"No problem at all, Bette," I replied. "In fact, there's a rule in my household that condoms are always used if there's physical intimacy with someone else. I brought some myself."

She gave me a wide-eyed stare. "Are you saying that this is permitted?"

"The short answer is yes," I said. "Don't worry: I'm sure this is still adultery."

"So now I owe Ann a really big favor, and I still owe you four?"

"I'm sure we'll think of some way you can pay us back."

"Get into that bed," she commanded. "Now."

************

An hour later we were in each other's arms, still floating in post-coital contentment. It had been ten years since I had last made love to a 25-year-old. That was Ann. At 39, I was the oldest lover Bette had ever had. She was particularly pleased to discover the difference an additional 14 years of practice can make when it comes to cunnilingus. That is, compared with her ex-boyfriend. Or possibly boyfriend. Nobody was quite clear on his current status. Or much cared.

The photograph for Lodestone came out fine. She had put the phone on an adjustable stand and had used the delayed shutter. The photo showed our heads and upper torsos. We were in bed and naked. Bette was on her back; I was on top of her, face turned away from the camera. Her face had a look of sexual satisfaction. My left hand was touching her face. She was sucking on my middle finger. My wedding ring sparkled on the adjacent finger. It struck me as one of the most erotic photos I have seen.

Bette had to use the toilet. She told me she would be a few minutes. "Don't you dare go away," she said. Then, teasing, "And we are not going to play 'Lady's Dressing Room' afterwards. Anything my body no longer needs will be immediately removed from the premises." I smiled. Naked, she exited the bedroom.

While she was gone, I started thinking of this secretive Lodestone sorority. Whatever their program is, exactly, it certainly seemed effective.

I decided to examine her pin more closely. I reached across to the chair with our clothes. From the bottom of the pile I extracted Bette's blouse.

I looked closely at the front of the Lodestone pin. I decided that the design that looked like a three-bladed airplane propeller actually was a three-bladed airplane propeller.

Then I examined the back. Words were etched above and below the horizontal fastener. The letters were worn but legible when the light caught them right. The pin read,

3 Years Service
Pratt & Whitney Aircraft
East Hartford, Conn.
DEPENDABLE ENGINES

The toilet flushed. I tossed the blouse onto the clothes pile. Water ran in the bathroom sink.

Bette reappeared a minute later. Her eye immediately registered that her blouse was now at the top of the pile.

"Busted, huh?" she said.

"Climb into bed, you German minx!"

She threw herself into my arms.

Apart from grunts and such, neither of us said a word for the next half hour. At last--drained, totally at peace, floating again in her arms--I broke the silence.

"Lodestone doesn't actually exist, right?"

"Not the sorority, I guess," she replied. "There is a theater company. And of course the mineral--properly known as magnetite."

"That alleged meeting with Geoffrey Bannock? Did that actually happen?"

"Yes," she said.

"How about the nude poetry reading?"

"Yes."

"You went to a lot of trouble," I said.

She gave me a smile and a kiss.

"It was worth it."