Ellen at Sharon's Party

"Yeah, you have a good point," Zimmer said. "Fat people are the one group it is still acceptable to be prejudiced against." Zimmer was the progressive standout among the department heads in county government. Those were the days when it was not incompatible to be a progressive and be constantly in pursuit of women. Still, it was odd to hear him having a bit of an argument with George over tolerating obesity.

"Okay, okay, I need to have a more enlightened attitude," George said. "I will accept naked fat old people in my future. But not yet!" Everyone laughed at that.

"Carl, Ellen, grab a chair and join us!" Maisie said.

I was about to unfold a lawn chair for Ellen when she saw that Britt and Doug were playing croquet in the far corner of the lawn. "Carl, let's play croquet first!" she said. She started moving over to the croquet court carrying her 7-Up. I finished setting up the chair, picked up my paper cup of wine, and followed her.

Britt and Doug were our newlyweds. Everyone agreed that Britt and Doug were the best-looking couple in the area. They were both tall, blond, and well-build. Doug was a bit of a celebrity sociology professor, having published his doctoral dissertation as a photography book documenting his year traveling with professional pool hustlers. Soon after he arrived on campus, he started scouting out the local communes. This was supposedly for a photo essay of commune life, but he really was browsing the commune women. Renée told me he spent a few nights in her bed before I met her. He had also spent time with Maisie during one of Keith's disappearances. At least two others I know of shared their beds with him as well. The casual sex was not without issues - Renée for one had been disappointed by his bed-hopping.

Just after classes ended that spring Doug had gone to the Netherlands and came back a month later with Britt. She had worked as a nude model to support herself in school. She had just finished medical school and would have had no trouble getting a visa even if they had not gotten married. She was choosing among offers of pediatric residencies from several hospitals. The process of going to interviews had impressed upon her the big distances in the US, but neither she nor Doug seemed to have any dismay about the prospect of living far apart. I learned all this talking with her at Sharon's parties. In fact, I had never seen Britt with clothes on.

Ellen could not have missed their good looks, but it was not because Britt and Doug were so attractive that she moved eagerly to the croquet pitch. She always loved the game. She played a lot with neighbor kids in high school and had got me to set up a course in my parents' back yard. I remember once suggesting that we play strip croquet, but it would not have done me much good even if it were feasible; she beat me three games out of four.

"Do you mind if we join you?" Ellen asked. "If you are far into your game, we can just stay behind and keep out of your way."

Britt and Doug both smiled and waved to us to come closer. "We aren't really playing," Britt said, "We are just knocking balls around."

"We hadn't settled on the rules. Who knew there are about six ways to play this game?" Doug asked.

"I only know American backyard rules," Ellen said.

"Well, that settles it," Doug said. "American rules it is."

I introduced them to each other. They both gave us quick hugs. Britt knew me of course, and it felt nice and natural to have her large breasts against my chest. They both had to bend a bit to hug Ellen. Ellen seemed to enjoy it, and I liked seeing her close to them.

Brit and Doug had already chosen the blue and red balls, so Ellen picked the black and I had the yellow. Britt started off, driving her ball in a straight line almost to the second wicket. Doug's ball went off to the side of the first wicket, Ellen's went through the first wicket but stopped short of Britt's. I managed to keep mine in a straight line, but it stopped just short of the first wicket.

That forecast how the rest of the game went. Ellen and Britt had Doug and me clearly outmatched. He played worse than I would have expected for a scholar of pool hustling. The women were always at least two wickets ahead. When one of us guys managed to get close to one of them, she would roquet off our ball and get two extra turns. As they played, they talked about Ellen's work at a lab outside Boston. Britt was fascinated to hear about research on the immunological effects of human milk oligosaccharides. It was wonderful to watch the two naked women, so different from each other but both beautiful, deep in conversation while skillfully directing their croquet balls across the grass.

Speaking of immune disorders, I recognize now that we were truly fortunate that lime disease and the tick-borne virus that causes it were a couple decades away from arriving in our area. We had no concerns about being naked for hours in the grass. Our introduction to sex, Ellen's and mine, would have been far different if deer ticks had been a concern. Young people in the northeast today are amazed and jealous to hear this. This was also a few years before anyone had heard of HIV or HPV. Renée was familiar with the standard sexually transmissible diseases through her work at Planned Parenthood, but we mostly behaved like they were not relevant to us. I have seen younger people get angry over this, as if those of us young in the sixties and seventies somehow caused the current situation with our carelessness. Maybe we did.

Doug and I were continuing a longstanding but good-natured argument about what constituted sociology. My year studying in England had left me doubting whether Doug's non-empirical photo research could truly be called sociology. He argued strongly that it was a legitimate part of the field. He said that most human behavior is non-verbal, and photography is the perfect means to capture it. One night at Jerry's bar, Renée (a Smith soc grad) and Doug even ganged up to tell me I was limiting myself to a narrow and boring European perspective. I found myself leaning towards accepting their point of view. However, knowing they had slept together, I was not about to concede, even though their short affair was ancient history by then. Renée had left the commune and was about to graduate from nursing school. She had also by then turned down my interest in her to begin her relationship with Jerry.

That night at Sharon's, Doug and I were much less interested in the argument than in watching Britt and Ellen playing. At one point Ellen was setting up for a short putt with her legs spread and the croquet mallet back between her legs, the handle touching her pussy. Doug looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I just smiled back.

Britt's and Ellen's croquet balls were close together near the end of the course. Britt did a roquet off Ellen's ball, and then instead of just taking the free strokes, she laid her red ball tight against Ellen's black one. She put her bare foot on her ball and gave it a good whack, sending Ellen's ball careening off course.

"Oh, this means war!" Ellen yelled.

"It is allowed, yes?" Britt said, with a big grin on her face.

A few strokes later, Ellen reversed the situation. "Now you can show you are a nice person and that I am the only meanie," Britt said.

"Not a chance," said Ellen, sending Britt's ball rolling far across the grass.

The volleyball game had ended, and Ruth and Mike came over to watch the end of our croquet match. While I was waiting a turn, Mike said, "You do like them young, don't you Carl?"

I was confused at first by his remark. It was true that Carol was only twenty that summer. Just then Ellen hit the final stake and broke into a little naked victory dance, prancing around with her long brown hair flying. We all cheered, including some people who had got up from the circle on the lawn to watch the competition between the women.

Watching Ellen's little dance, I understand Mike's mistake. "Ellen is twenty-seven," I told him.

"Yeah, right," he said.

My turn was next, and I got my yellow ball almost to the middle wicket. Then, with her next stroke, Britt hit the goal stake. She threw down her mallet and grabbed Ellen, and they did a circle dance together, both laughing. It was a very pretty sight.

The people watching applauded. Some of them started to crowd the court. Doug called out, "Hey, Carl and I haven't finished yet!"

"Oh yes," Britt said, putting her hands on Mike's chest to keep him from giving her a congratulatory hug, "Let them finish their little game."

"We are getting no respect here Doug," I said.

Doug and I did take play our balls through, but we did not do any dancing when we finally hit the goal stake. Keeping my mind on the game had been difficult because I was seeing naked Ellen getting hugs from most of the other naked people there. Renée and Bill were in deep conversation up on the porch. Sharon, Zimmer, and George had disappeared.

I finally got to give Ellen a good hug too. She was happy and warm and sensual, and ending up by giving me one of her super-tight power hugs and holding onto me for several minutes. I was getting hard, and she felt it too and kept hugging. Finally she backed away from me and looked down.

"The other guys don't get that big when they hug," she said.

"Maybe you didn't give them your super squeeze."

She laughed. "No, that's just for special people." We stood a bit apart, with me holding both her hands.

"Do you want to leave now?" I asked.

That surprised her. "No, I want to talk to Britt some more. But I'm thirsty if you want to get me a soda."

"Sure. You make croquet an active sport. I will get you something from the fridge."

Ellen went back to the group gathered around the croquet court. Doug gave her a congratulatory hug, holding her against his broad chest just a bit too long, I thought. When Ellen backed away, he turned to Ruth who was standing close by and put his arm around her waist.

I was surprised to see Bill that had joined the group. He was talking with Allie, probably exchanging Massachusetts experiences with her. I did not see Renée. There was still no sign of Sharon, George, and Zimmer.

When I went into the kitchen, Renée was there getting a beer. She looked surprised but happy to see me. "Do you want something from the fridge?" She asked.

"A 7-Up if there's one left."

She browsed around the fridge, squatting down to look at a lower shelf. She looked natural and lovely. "Here's one," she said, standing up and handing me the bottle. "I didn't know you liked 7-Up."

I realized I was semi-tumescent. Maybe it was still from Ellen's hug or from standing naked three feet from Renée, or both.

"It's for Ellen," I said. Then I said, "You do know this is the first time I've seen you naked."

"I'm really not a person who likes to go around with nothing on."

"You look nice," I said. I was always captured by her lovely face, her blue eyes and long blond hair. Now I was seeing her cute breasts and her graceful hips curving away from her flat belly and light pubic patch.

She smiled. She actually blushed a little. "You look nice too, not wearing your polyester suit." Ever since she saw me after work one time, she had poked gentle fun at the suit I wore to the office. This was the seventies remember.

"I never thought you would come to one of these parties," I said. "You said it wasn't your kind of thing."

"Bill wanted to come. And I thought you would be here, and we could talk."

She was looking quite serious. I thought maybe she was upset about something. I had made a point of not offering her my shoulder to cry on during her romantic tribulations; I did not want to become a neutered best buddy to her. But I was curious what she wanted to talk about.

"Let me get some wine and we can talk on the porch," I said. I filled another paper cup with Pinot Grigio and we went outside. I held Ellen's cold soda bottle under my arm to open the door for Renée. Her hip brushed past me on the way out.

We sat on the gliding loveseat. Sharon used low wattage bulbs on the porch just so a couple could get together in the dim light. I stood Ellen's 7-Up bottle on the porch, telling myself I had to make this short with Renée.

"You didn't tell me you were going to have a visitor when I was giving you sympathy about you and Carol breaking up," Renée said. "I see I didn't have to be worried about you being lonely."

"I didn't know Ellen was coming until just this morning."

"She just showed up and you hadn't seen her in a long time. This is a funny place to bring her."

"She told me she had always wanted to go to a nude party, so she lucked out."

"Will she be here long?"

"Two days, then she's heading to Berkeley for graduate school."

This news seemed to make Renée relax a bit. She was quiet, then she leaned towards me. "I was hoping we can talk about something," she said.

"Sure, what about?"

She was turning the beer bottle in her hand. "I was thinking that maybe we could get together," she said.

I stared at her. She gave a little frowning smile. A million things went through my head, but I couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Is that something you still want?" she asked.

"Renée, if you had said that anytime in the past two years, it would have lit up my world. Anytime up to this morning."

It seemed to take her a while to understand. "You mean when Ellen showed up?"

"Exactly. Now I feel like I am committing myself to her. Again"

"I know she was important to you. But she broke up with you years ago and you haven't seen her in a long time and now you think you will get back together?"

"It does sound crazy, but I'm thinking it could happen."

"What does she think?"

What did Ellen think? She was happy to be with me today, I was sure of that. I was not sure if she saw it as actually getting back together. Maybe her visit was just a way to feel not so alone before she headed to grad school.

"She will be in California," Renée noted when I did not say anything.

"I know that," I said.

Renée did not say anything for awhile, then I noticed her shoulders were shaking. She was starting to cry. I put hand on her bare shoulder. She said "Don't" and moved my hand away. "This is a stupid conversation," she said.

"It isn't stupid. It's knocked me off my feet."

"It was a stupid idea to come."

"Please stop saying you are stupid," I said. "You know you're not."

"I feel stupid tonight," she said. "You better take Ellen her pop before it gets warm."

The only thing I could think to say was, "We will talk later." When that was going to be I had no idea. I could see Renée was trying to keep her crying under control.

"Sure," she said, "We can talk later."

I picked up Ellen's 7-Up and went down the steps. I tried to think about the last few occasions I spent some time with Renée. What had I missed? I had not noticed any ground shifting, any warming in temperature. But after having had a few good knock-downs from her over two years, maybe I had built a barrier against picking up on anything from her.

The group had returned to the circle of lawn chairs. Bonnie Raitt was now singing a bluesy song on the speakers. Sharon kept the turntable and her record collection in her bedroom. I had learned to discern a meaning behind her music choices. She always began the night off with reggae and rock. When she was starting to make love, she tended to play Bonnie Raitt or Joan Armatrading. If things were going well, she switched to easy traditional blues. If you were with her and she played an unhappy Bessie Smith number, it was time for critical self-examination of your performance.

Ellen was leaning back in a lawn chair looking over her shoulder for me. Her long brown hair ran down her bare back. I handed her the soda and sat down in the empty chair next to her. I noticed that my penis was totally soft now and was sure that Ellen had noticed it too.

"You were gone a long time," she said.

"Renée wanted to talk to me."

"I saw you with her on the porch. She is very pretty. Is she alright?"

"It's complicated," I said.

The seating arrangement was mixed. Britt was sitting next to Mike, then Maisie and Keith, then Allie and Bill, then Doug and Ruth facing across the circle to their spouses. Then Ellen and me. Britt was telling about an experience while nude modeling.

"I got all undressed, and they noticed the marks from my bra were showing on my body. They told me to sit down until the marks faded. That was a big mistake, I will tell you why. The only chair they had for me had a cane bottom!"

We all laughed. "That's why I always sit on a towel like this." She had spread out a bath towel on the lawn chair.

"Ellen, Ruth, Allie!" Britt cried out, "You are going to have the weaving from these chairs on your bare bottoms! Find some towels!"

There were towels hanging over the porch railing just for this purpose. Bill, Doug and I got up to get them. I noticed that when Bill stood up he patted the inside of Allie's thigh, and she smiled and held his hand briefly there. It was not the kind of reaction I had ever gotten from her.

"While you're there," Mike said, "turn down the lights a bit."

Renée was still on the porch and she came over to talk to Bill when he got there. I went up the steps and turned off half the backyard lights. Doug and I took towels back to Ruth and Ellen. Ellen stood up and tried to look at her bottom.

"Do I have cross markings on my butt?" She asked.

"You have some. If I had a marker, we could play tic-tac-toe."

"Give me that towel!" she said.

With the lights down we were not so brightly illuminated, but we could see each other around the circle with the help to the light from the firepit. Maisie raised the topic of the big powerline the state power authority was pushing through farmland. I momentarily heard raised voices from Renée and Bill on the porch behind me, but I could not make out what they were saying. In a few minutes Bill retook his seat beside Allie. She looked at him in concern, but he waived his hand slightly as if to indicate it was no big deal.

Maisie was saying that the big powerline towers would be visible from their commune, and it was going to ruin their current horizon with no man-made objects in sight. I had gone on protest marches in sympathy with the farmers. I started to tell Ellen what it was about, but Doug, sitting next to us, took over explaining it. As a college professor, he of course thought he could do the best job. Allie interrupted to correct him at one point, with information Zimmer had picked up at county government. I noticed that while she spoke, she was holding Bill's hand still on her upper thigh.

"I may have got some of the details wrong," Allie said, finishing up.

"Hey," Mike said, "I couldn't remember all the details with someone's hand on my thigh." A few people laughed at that, including Bill, but Allie looked like she felt shut down. Bill whispered in her ear. I hope he told her, "Don't listen to that asshole." He must have added other things, because after a while she softened and leaned her head against his shoulder.

Maisie stood up. "Well, I think we're going now. No more games for us tonight." There was a lot to read into her decision to leave, partly that she was having her period, but mostly I think she was pissed at Mike for shooting down her effort to have a serious conversation. Keith had a half-smoked joint in his hand and did not seem to hear her. "Keith, it's time for us to head home." Keith caught on to what she was saying. He passed the joint on to Allie and stood up. Maisie went around the circle, giving everyone but Mike a hug and kiss. She said, "It was so nice to meet you, Ellen." Then to me she whispered, as she bent over and I put my hand on her bare waist, "Don't let her get away."