Shane and Carmen: The Novelization Ch. 10

Phoebe Sparkle, nee Myra Driscoll Pankhurst, had launched her career as a university-trained academic who had degrees in sexology and women's studies. She had written a typically turgid doctoral dissertation at age 24 on the subject of deviant sexual practices and the psychology of sadomasochism, and one day shortly before she was scheduled to present her defense of it and then receive her doctorate, she had what she later called an "epiphany." "Fuck it," she claims she said to herself, and sat down to re-write her dissertation using the pen name Phoebe Sparkle. The "dissertation" became a publishing sensation under the title Doms, Butches and Bitches With Whips. DB&BWW made it to number eight on the New York Times bestseller list.

In a seeming heartbeat, she found herself writing a monthly sex column for Playgirl magazine, published articles in three or four gay/lesbian magazines and newspapers, and appeared on a dozen talk shows on radio and cable television. One now-famous evening she told Howard Stern that she ate pussy better than he did, and challenged him to a cunnilingus smackdown to see who was the top carpet-muncher. Howard reluctantly had to turn her down, in part because his wife said no fucking way are you eating somebody else's pussy, and she's not eating mine, so forget it. Of course, every word of the controversy made it on the air, to everyone's delight and great ratings. Phoebe Sparkle was on her way to becoming a household name -- in some households, anyway -- as well as a frequent guest on Stern's show. Howard couldn't get enough of her, and she ate up the publicity. It's all about the niche marketing.

Her next book was another bestseller, Getting to Know Your Pussy: A Woman's Guide to How Her Cooter Works. This was soon followed by The Life and Times of My Clit, a sexual autobiography of the appendage she had named Pink Floyd and in which she disclosed what became her signature issue, what she called her "polyamory," the practice of having not only an open relationship, but multiple relationships with both sexes, with her significant partner(s)'s knowledge and approval. In short, she fucked anything and everything she wanted to, whenever and wherever she wanted to, even though she had had something approximating a six-year common law marriage to a man that overlapped by two years a fairly steady relationship with a lesbian, all the while seducing and sleeping with whoever came along who struck her fancy.

In another heartbeat, she found herself producing a line of video how-to sex tapes on a variety of topics from cunnilingus and fellatio to anal sex to BDSM, as well as videos oriented to lesbians, gay men and straight couples. She starred in several of the videos as the narrator and presenter, but was also seen in a few segments as participant. In one famous tape she faced the camera and talked to it from a position between the legs of an otherwise unseen woman. She discussed lesbian sexual hygiene and stopped her lecture occasionally to bow her head and lick the pussy and clit of the unseen woman. At the end of the tape, Phoebe summarized her discussion, bid the viewer goodbye until next time, and lowered her head to bring the woman to orgasm, the woman's hips twitching and arching upward, the camera seeing only the top half of Phoebe's face buried in a hairy muff at climax.

Her how-to video on using a strap-on was titled Bend Over, Bitch, and Phoebe steadfastly refused to tell anyone what the gender was of the person she was ostensibly reaming. The cover art of her video on proper and improper sexual advances, behaviors and attitudes in the workplace, Let's Do Munch, showed Phoebe in an executive boardroom reclining on the conference table on her side, pantyless and with her skirt hiked up to her waist, while a nattily dressed man in a business suit and tie knelt on the floor with his face between her legs. Behind her, men and women in business attire appeared to be conducting a meeting while at the far end of the conference table a man in a business suit was giving a PowerPoint presentation, all of them ignoring Phoebe and her power-luncher.

Sappho's Nectar was a collection of 80 first-person-narrated, first-lesbian-experience stories Phoebe had collected. Some were only a few paragraphs long but others ran to several pages and might have appeared in Penthouse Letters columns. Phoebe had organized them into categories and themes such as teen-seduced-by-teacher/counselor/coach; innocent-teen-discovers-lesbianism-with-equally-innocent-teen-BFF; twenty-something-jilted-by-man-turns-to-friend-for-comfort; sexually-experienced-woman-has-menage-and-switches-teams; teen-seduced-by-friend's-mom/older-next-door-neighbor; the zipless-fuck variant of woman-seduced-by-nameless-stranger-in-bar/train/airplane/cruise ship/vacation-resort; two-colleagues-work-late-on-Friday-night; woman-has-flat-tire-on-lonely-road-and-is-rescued-by-butch-biker-chick or butch-state-trooper; my-college-roommate; and so on. What was surprising was that Phoebe took the stories and the women who wrote them seriously, and had provided considerable commentary and analysis that was respectful, thoughtful, and intelligent without being academically stuffy or condescending.

Sappho's Nectar became a sensation and once the format was proved successful, Phoebe turned out a series: Sappho's Nectar II, about coming-out stories; Sappho's Nectar III, about long-term lesbian relationships, commitment ceremonies and marriage; More Sappho's Nectar, a round-up selected from the flood of new stories that had come in due to the fame of I, II and III; and Son of Sappho's Nectar, a collection of stories about gay men and their first-time experiences.

Sappho's Nectar IV covered female bisexuality, which pissed off not a few women in the superdyke community who disapproved of bisexuality, a battle that had been raging in the LGBT community since the 1980s. But it was Sappho's Nectar V that really rocked the little man in the boat. This volume bravely took on the uglier extreme fringes of the lesbian community itself, dealing with the range of behavior from light bondage and S&M to heavy-duty dom/submissive relationships. Phoebe herself had no problem with anything consensual, but she openly speculated about humiliation, physical violence and abusive relationships approaching torture. She noted the double standard that if a woman was handcuffed, ball-gagged, spanked or whipped with a riding crop to the point of bruising and/or bleeding, pissed on and then brutally anally fucked, all this abuse perpetrated by a man, consensually or not, there would be howls of outrage and condemnation. However, if the same acts were performed consensually by one lesbian to another, it seemed to be acceptable and not thought to be demeaning, humiliating or abusive. She noted that there was a coterie of lesbians who treated their conquests every bit as badly as many men did, objectifying them as sex objects, physically and psychologically abusing them, and casting them aside as callously as any man in a trailer park porn flick. The message was that hetero abuse was horrible and criminal but that homo abuse was okay. No, Phoebe Sparkle said; it wasn't. And Phoebe had said what no one else had ever dared to say: That a certain proportion of people in the gay and lesbian communities were some pretty sick, twisted, angry, self-hating people. She wondered whether it wasn't possible to foster a kinder, gentler, more loving gay community, one hopefully free (or at least freer) of the bitchiness, cattiness and self-loathing she was seeing among the sisterhood and many of the brothers.

The Other Valley of the Dolls dealt with women in the porn industry in the San Fernando Valley just outside of L.A., dubbed "Porn Valley" and "San Pornando Valley," and how the women were often abused and exploited, whether hetero or lesbian or bi. Phoebe had no objection to a little mild recreational drug use, but she pointed out that many porn actresses were not only high or stoned when they performed, but that drugs were used not to enhance their work on camera but simply as a means of controlling them off-screen. A good handful of them had died very young, of drug overdoses or similar durg-or-alcohol-related incidents. There were suicides, and several murders inside the profession. Phoebe pointed fingers and named names.

She was gorgeous, she was sexy, she was glamorous, she was outrageous, she called it like she saw it, and she'd done it all. She was Phoebe Sparkle.

Over the course of the six-day cruise, Olivia had scheduled 34 different lectures, seminars, presentations and panel discussions, to say nothing of various mixers, luncheons, dances, hospitality events, and a silent auction. Of the 34 events Phoebe Sparkle was the main feature either as sole lecturer or as one of the panelists in nine events (Dana was the main speaker in two events and a panelist in three others). On a personal level, Phoebe was most proud of her two-hour presentation, "Polyamory, Polyfidelity and Polygamy: An Introduction and Discussion," and two adjunct lectures, "Polyamory in the Kerista and Oneida Communities," and "Polyamory, Polyfidelity and Group Marriage in the Works of Robert A. Heinlein and Robert Rimmer." These were normally rigorously academic [read: boring] topics, but it was Phoebe's talent and genius to make them accessible to the average lesbian-or-polyamorite-in-the-street.

The kick-off presentation began a little more than an hour after the ship had left the pier, and was held on the open St. Tropez Deck near the ship's swimming pool. A roped-off area held about 90 folding chairs facing a dais with a table with chairs for the four panelists, two of whom were Phoebe and Dana, and the panel moderator. The first three rows were reserved seats, and Dana had gotten four in the third row for Alice, Carmen, Shane and Jenny. The moderator started off with a general welcome aboard speech, so thrilled to have you all here, blah blah blah, got a lot of activities and events lined up for you, please have fun, practice safe sex, and if you don't need to practice because you've got it down pat, that's great, too. (Polite titters.) My job this afternoon's really easy because our four celebrity panelists don't need any introduction. You all know the Founding Mother of the Feminist Movement, Silvia Blackman! (Applause and cheers.) Hollywood's hottest lesbian movie star, she's smokin', she's going commando, and she's a 38-D cup! Glory Abernathy! (Applause, cheers, and several hoots.) Fresh out of the closet and on her way to Wimbledon, let's give it up for tennis sensation Dana Fairbanks! (Applause, cheers, and whistles from Alice, Shane and Carmen, and an abortive whistle from Jenny, who tried but couldn't.) And of course a lady who REALLY needs no introduction, the Queen of Fab, Phoebe Sparkle!! (Applause, raucous cheers, appreciative and friendly catcalls.)

The four presentations were quick canned speeches, and there was a lot of friendly banter back and forth, since Silvia, Glory and Phoebe all knew each other from dozens of previous speeches, seminars and public occasions, and they were all quick to warmly welcome the newbie, Dana, into the ranks of Sapphic uber-celebrity. After a few minutes the moderator opened it up to questions from the audience, which is what everybody wanted most of all: a chance to interact with their heroines. The first volley of questions came thick and fast: What was Phoebe's next book about? (I haven't decided, but don't be surprised if it has sex in it. Laughter and applause.) Who did Glory think was the hottest lesbian actress -- beside herself, of course -- and which straight actress rang her chimes? (Angelina Jolie, to both questions! Much laughter and applause.) Who were Dana's inspirations? (Oh, boy, there are so many! Billie Jean, Martina, Chrissy ... .)

The moderator: "Yes, the woman in the back."

A demure schoolteacher-looking woman in her late 30s: "Miss Sparkle, do you think it's possible to be in a committed relationship and still carry on a polyamorous lifestyle?"

Phoebe: "It's certainly possible. The most important thing is to know that jealousy will rear its head."

Jenny looked at Shane and smiled. Shane grinned weakly, wondering what Jenny was thinking now.

Phoebe: "You have to agree with your primary loved one to be honest about your feelings, and you have to make rules."

Moderator: "Woman in yellow?"

A sexy young woman in a yellow sun dress: "Dana Fairbanks ... will you marry me?"

The crowd laughed and applauded as Dana flushed red and buried her face in her arms before looking up again. "Sure! No, I'm sorry. (Laughs) Uh, thank you, actually, very much, but I'm in one of those, um ... committed relationships, and we're not poly ... amorphic, or whatever it is." (Laughter.)

"Well, that also works, but I'm guessing that Dana and her partner know how to spice things up," Phoebe said. The crowd whooped, applauded, and called out as Alice playfully raised her hand and saluted Dana from the audience as Carmen, Jenny and Shane laughed and applauded her.

Moderator: "All right, we have time for one more question before the 8 p.m. dinner seating. Right there." She pointed at Jenny, who was waving frantically.

"Miss Sparkle," Jenny asked, "what is your advice on three-ways?"

The crowd laughed, hooted and cheered -- everybody except Carmen and Shane, who looked at each other frowning. Shane was the first to look away, but they both had the same thought, and it bothered them equally: Just what the hell was with Jenny's new preoccupation with threesomes? Jenny, oblivious, responded to the crowd's cheers, shouting "Yay!" and waving her fist in the air.

"Well, I think they're great," Phoebe told the audience. "I'm a big, big fan of group sex. The only thing is that all parties have to be signed on for the same agenda."

Still standing, Jenny nodded that she understood the point.

"So that's the end of our panel for today," the moderator said. "I want to thank you all for being here. It's been a pleasure."

***

After dinner they gravitated to the main ballroom, where a giant mixer was just getting underway. At one end of the room was a stage with a large set-up for a pair of DJs, who were playing a lot of current music, and they were pretty good, Carmen thought, observing them with a professional eye. Almost unconsciously, she took in the stage, looked at the equipment, the positioning, the lighting, the sound board, all of it completely familiar to her by way of her production assistant work or her DJ experience. "I could put this whole thing together," she thought to herself. "And I could DJ this crowd. Piece of cake."

At that moment Jenny found Carmen and dragged her by the hand into a nearby crowd of women who included Alice, Dana and Shane, and began dancing with her. After a couple of songs it became obvious that nobody was really dancing with anybody else specifically, it was four or five hundred women all dancing with whoever was in front of them that particular moment. A fair number were checking each other out, some were beginning to neck, and at the sides of the ballroom at the bars women were drinking, flirting, and checking out the action – and each other.

Carmen, dancing with two blonds, saw Jenny dancing nearby with Shane, saw Shane smiling and laughing and then twirling Jenny around, in a completely non-sexual, casual way: just a couple of pals enjoying the scene. The song ended and a slow dance began, and Carmen found herself in Jenny's arms, swaying slowly to Sade's No Ordinary Love. Jenny looked deeply into Carmen's eyes, smiled, and leaned in to a slow, warm kiss that Carmen closed her eyes for and returned. Jenny reached out, still lip-locked with Carmen, and pulled Shane into the embrace. Shane came willingly, but only because she didn't understand what was happening, and she'd had a couple of drinks. But before she knew it she was mere inches away from Jenny and Carmen, and then there was no Jenny, only Carmen, and she was kissing Carmen. Carmen dreamily opened her eyes and saw that she was kissing ... not Jenny but Shane. And then Shane leaned forward again, eyes closed, and kissed her again, kissed the mouth she had dreamed about kissing for months, another long, lingering kiss that had Carmen's full participation. After a long moment, this kiss, too, came to an end as Carmen finally opened her eyes to see if the dream was real. And it was: There was Shane looking at her, mouth slack and hungry and wanting Carmen's lips, and Carmen looking at Shane, her pulse rising as she stared at Shane's lovely, androgynous, anguished face, the face Carmen dreamed about kissing and might just now have been kissed by, but she almost wasn't sure. Shane wanted it, and Carmen, holding her breath, wanted it so badly, how many months had she wanted this moment, and yet it was all wrong, and then Shane suddenly seemed to come to her senses. The sound was roaring in her ears, a deafening cascade, Shane couldn't remember it ever being this loud, and her feelings so intense, so conflicted, that involuntarily she took a step backward, as though she'd been slapped. She had been kissing Carmen. How had that happened? She backed up another step, lost in a maelstrom of confused feelings that overwhelmed her. She turned and walked through the crowd, somehow found a door out to the deck, walked to the rail, clutched it, and held on for dear life. She had been kissing Carmen.

***

Carmen stood in a kind of shock, staring at Shane's back as she disappeared through the crowd. She saw Jenny staring at her joyfully, laughing and clapping her hands. Carmen understood Jenny was gloating over the situation she'd just created, her success -- if you want to call it that -- in finally bringing Shane and Carmen together. But on some other level, Carmen didn't quite understand what had just happened, or why. All she knew was that she had been kissing Shane.

"I ... I ... uh. I'm going to bed," she said to Jenny, and turned away, threading through the crowd. Jenny, still exulting, turned away and began dancing with an older woman who had been eying her for a while.

***

Shane lifted her head up from her arms, which were folded on top of the ship's rail. She fished a cigarette out of the pack in her pocket, lit it, and slouched back down on the rail. She looked out over the ocean in the moonlight. The noise in her head had settled down to a low roar. Her heart had stopped pounding so fast.

It wasn't only that she had kissed Carmen. It certainly wasn't that she had been manipulated into it, although of course she had been. It was that she had wanted to kiss Carmen, had wanted to kiss her for months now. She thought about it, almost quite literally, day and night. She had wanted to kiss Carmen from the first moment she'd laid eyes on her, in that studio dressing room. And had kissed her, a little while later. Not only kissed her but made love to her. And then ... and then ... .

It was so vague that Shane didn't even have a word for it, this ... this ... thing ... that happened in her head, this tendency to suddenly veer off course and fuck up, to behave shitty to somebody she liked, to drive them away. It was like ... sabotage or something. It wasn't even twelve hours after she'd first laid eyes on Carmen --to say nothing of going down on her in the sound room -- that Shane panicked and had become a total asshole, doing everything she could to push Carmen away. And it might have worked except ... she got weak, and went and found Carmen at the church location shoot, because the truth was, Shane didn't want to let her go ... .