“We’re undercover passion on the run
Chasing love up against the sun
We’re strangers by day, lovers by night
Knowing it’s so wrong, but feeling so right.”
-Part Time Lovers, Stevie Wonder
Monthly meeting of the Scarlet Letter Society.
Zoomdweebies Café
Friday, July 6, 2012
5:30 a.m.
Attention, ladies! We’re terrible at being a book club. This month make sure you have read Erica Jong’s Fear of Flying (stay up all night if you have to, Eva!). It’s my favorite book, so I’d love to actually chat about it.
“The scarlet letter was her passport into regions where other women dared
not tread.”
-The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne
At 6:00 a.m., Eva checked the email reminder of that week’s book club meeting as the notification came up on her iPhone. Knowing she was going to catch crap from Maggie, she had at least read a few chapters of this one. It certainly was an easier read than that Victorian snoozer she’d blown off. At least this one took place in a period of time during which they’d all actually been alive.
Eva rolled over in the luxurious, ridiculously high Egyptian cotton thread count bedding in her two-story suite overlooking Central Park. God, she thought, I love it here. And how could she not? This top-notch suite was compliments of her hard work and dedication to her corporate law practice, and she had earned it. She rolled her eyes at the thought. Okay, that was all kinda bullshit. She knew full well the room upgrade was compliments of her chef lover. She used to stay in a normal person small suite, not this place, twice the size of her mother’s island cottage, where actual presidents had stayed.
Her hotel phone rang. Who used these anymore? she thought as she answered.
A French accent greeted her on the other line. “Good morning, Madame Eva Bradley?”
“Yessssss?” she answered.
“This is Charles, the head chef here at the Plaza. Are you enjoying your stay?”
She snickered.
“I would be enjoying it more if I had someone here in my room to take care of some of my personal needs,” she purred.
“Yes, madame, we do offer 24-hour butler service in our royal suites, as you know. Hopefully our butlers can service your every personal need? I’m calling to see if you would like to be the Chef’s guest for breakfast this morning here in our private dining room.”
“I would love for you to have me for breakfast,” said Eva.
“Oui, madame, the pleasure will be mine. Is 7:00 am a good time for you?”
“Perfect,” said Eva, smiling, because Charles of course knew she always left the hotel by 8 am.
“Very good, madame. We look forward to seeing you then.”
Eva tapped her fingers on the open door of her large closet. She’d have to choose an outfit that could be easily—well, disassembled and reassembled for the corporate law office where she’d be spending the morning after her little breakfast meeting. In the financial fallout of the modern economy, companies rose and fell, and it was her job to deal with multimillion dollar lawsuits between those companies, no matter how exhausting that often was.
Exhausted at work, exhausted at home. Calvin had just come home with his first C, in Biology. She couldn’t wait until the day her boys were out of college (already an optimistic goal, she thought) and she could get off this hamster wheel, retire, and live on Matthew’s Island collecting sea glass and reading whole, actual books like that was her career.
But for now, Eva smiled to herself, because at least it looked like it was going to be a panties-in-the-Coach purse kind of morning first.
Zarina served two mocha lattes to the overwhelmed moms with the unruly looking preschoolers.
She watched as the kids chose from the corner basket containing blocks, puzzles, worn children’s board books, and tiny Polly Pocket houses that were once hers. A random My Little Pony or two, some Matchbox cars, and a few Barbie dolls with frazzled hair and frayed princess dresses rounded out the mix of distractions meant to keep kids like these busy so moms could relax and caffeinate.
And for when the moms get desperate? Ring Pops and Fun Dip candies at the counter could keep a kid occupied long enough for his mother to have a gulp or two of some much-needed java. Of course, only the coolest moms let their kids have the sugar. The ‘cruncher’ moms pulled out a bag of grapes or an organic banana.
Zarina returned to the counter where she was pleased to see one of the moms had placed two Ring Pops, an apologetic look on her face. Zarina smiled at her as Lisa walked in alone. She looked a little stressed.
“Busy day at the bakery?”
“Yeah, pretty much always,” said Lisa, “which I shouldn’t complain about.”
The shop wasn’t busy besides the two moms with their kids, so Zarina asked Lisa if she wanted to sit down and have caramel lattes.
“I’d love that.” Lisa looked genuinely happy.
The women had never gotten a chance to sit down and chat, even though the two of them were about as close in age as Lisa was to the other Scarlet Letter Society women.
“So, are you reading Fear of Flying?”
“Oh heck yes,” said Lisa. “I’m sure I will read all the monthly books, even though we don’t really discuss them at our gatherings.
“Can I tell you a little secret?” asked Zarina.
“Sure,” said Lisa.
“When I order your books each month, I’ve been ordering an extra copy for myself and reading along with you.”
“That’s so funny!” Lisa said, laughing. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. So what did you think of the first two books?”
“Well I had read The Scarlet Letter in high school, but read it again anyway. And then I really thought Anna Karenina was tragic, which is why I thought maybe you guys should skip it.”
“I know,” said Lisa. “None of these historical books seem to be very understanding towards women who cheat. I actually think overall that Anna Karenina was meant to be a little more on the sympathetic side from Tolstoy’s perspective, especially for a man. But there is no doubt it is grim.”
“Very true,” Zarina said. “I know Maggie read it anyway, but Eva probably won’t. You ladies need to find some more uplifting adultery books, that’s for sure. Not there are many. Fear of Flying should help.”
Lisa took out her journal from the nearly-matching preppy Vera Bradley purse and began reading.
“The zipless fuck is absolutely pure. It is free of ulterior motives. There is no power game. The man is not “taking” and the woman is not “giving.” No one is attempting to cuckold a husband or humiliate a wife. No one is trying to prove anything or get anything out of anyone. The zipless fuck is the purest thing there is. And it is rarer than the unicorn. And I have never had one.”
“Yeah, Erica Jong doesn’t really mince words, does she?” Lisa continued, “She goes on to say that the zipless fuck happens because “when you came together, zippers fell away like rose petals, underwear blew off in one breath like dandelion fluff. For the true ultimate zipless A-1 fuck, it was necessary that you never got to know the man very well.”
“Do you agree with her?” Zarina asked.
“It’s really complex, but truly so simple,” said Lisa. “It makes sense that if you had an affair, you would want it to happen in an almost innocent way—not out of spite or anger, but just because two people have come together in a moment in time and had a true connection.”
“And they just happened to be married to other people,” Zarina said.
Lisa seemed to blush. “Yeah, I mean, that’s the catch, right?” said Lisa. “The guilt. If you love your spouse, no matter how imperfect they are, you’re still going to feel bad having a relationship with someone else, whether it is a one night stand or a deeper friendship that just morphs into an affair.”
Zarina didn’t want to pry. Lisa really seemed like she was puzzling this out. It seemed she gave a lot more thought to this stuff than Maggie or Eva, which was probably one reason she didn’t open up more around them.
“So have you ever,” Zarina asked her, “had a zipless fuck?”
“I guess Jong says they’re rarer than a unicorn for a reason,” said Lisa, “but yeah, one time in college—isn’t that where most zipless fucks happen, right?—I had sex on a boat with a guy whose name I couldn’t even tell you today.”
Zarina laughed.
“Are you serious? A boat, huh?”
“Yep. I went to culinary school outside DC, but one time we went to a conference in Annapolis,” said Lisa. “Our hotel was right on the water at the harbor. I ended up meeting this guy at the bar, and his boat was docked right in front. We went for a ride, and then, well, and then we went for a ride! Sex on a boat was amazing. You can feel the whole boat rocking with the motion of your …”
She couldn’t even finish the sentence. She looked up like a kid caught red-handed in a candy store.
Zarina smiled at her. “It’s totally cool,” Zarina said, pulling her long black hair into a ponytail. Whew! Who knew how hot this coffee chat would be? I mean, it sounds fantastic.”
“It was before I was married,” said Lisa.
“And did you end up marrying a guy with a boat?” Zarina asked her jokingly. Lisa’s face relaxed. “Nope. But that probably would have been a really brilliant idea! So what about you, young lady? You’re probably too young to ask about such escapades.”
“Oh come on, I’m officially old enough to drink legally,” Zarina responded. “And I’m certainly not going to be a blushing bride, if I’m ever a bride! Heck yes, I had my college cliché zipless fuck. It was with a girl, and we both had boyfriends at the time. Though it wasn’t Stanley. But I think that’s what made it zipless—we were both girls, so we didn’t have the same guilt as you would if you cheated on your man with another guy.”
Zarina had somehow felt necessary to explain to Lisa that she hadn’t cheated on Stanley, though it seemed kind of ridiculous under the circumstances of her existing club membership.
“It all goes back to the shame, I think,” said Lisa. “Can you live with yourself the next day if you hurt the person you love by being with someone else?”
“I’ll leave that question for you, the other members of The Scarlet Letter Society, and Erica Jong to ponder,” Zarina said, clearing their cups.
G-Chat With Ron Jacobs
embradley@smithcohenbradley.com
July 5 to Eva
5:02 PM Ron: hey
Eva: hey!
Ron: so have you ever been to a sex club?
Eva: um. no
5:03 PM Ron: we should totally go—there is one in Baltimore
Eva: have you been there?!
5:04 PM Ron: yeah with Nicole.
5:05 PM Eva: what is it like? And what do u need me to go there for if u have your hot 20something girlfriend already going there with u?
5:06 PM Ron: It’s not as freaky as you might think. There are different rooms and you can watch or not watch or go in rooms or not, there’s a BYOB bar—it’s pretty laid back.
5:07 PM Eva: yeah someone’s getting laid there for sure.
Ron: truuuuue. haha
5:08 PM Eva: and you didn’t answer…you want me to go to a sex club with you becaussse?
Ron: I think u would have fun! Maybe you and Joe could go with me and Nicole.
5:10 PM Eva: You have obviously lost your mind. Joe and I do not need to be in a sex club to reminded that we don’t have sex anymore.. Let me guess—this has something to do with your threesome fantasy, doesn’t it…
Ron: what! No. Why do u say that!?
5:11 PM Eva: If you think my forty-one-year-old ass and saggy boobs are EVER going to be naked in front of your perfect little size-zero girlfriend you can dream on, young intern.
5:12 PM Ron: you wouldn’t have to. At a sex club, anything goes.
Eva: ew. The concept of the germs alone completely freaks me out.
5:13 PM Ron: there are pros there to make sure everything is completely sanitized.
Eva: ew. They need staff to clean up all the—ew. Just EW.
5:14 PM Ron: you should just come with me and we can give a try to see what you think. You might like the “torture chamber” room.
5:15 PM Eva: Torture chamber sounds fun, I must admit. But not one that someone else was in five minutes ago.
5:17 PM Ron: It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.
muahaha
5:18 PM Eva: You are too young for that reference.
5:19 PM Ron: ha ha I think it came out when I was like in first grade, but I’ve seen it on AMC.
Eva: This conversation is just making me feel old.
5:20 PM Ron: You’re not old. You’re hot.
Eva: So are you, my young staffer. So are you.
5:21 PM Ron: What? Stiffer? Lol Well I surely look forward to seeing you in the morning.
Eva: Yes, see you then. And don’t call me Shirley.
Ron: Huh?
Eva: Nevermind.
Eva sat back at her kitchen desk area chair, took off her reading glasses, closed her laptop and wiped her eyes with her hands, shaking her head. Yeah, he can maybe get a 90s Silence of the Lambs reference, but definitely not a 1980 Airplane reference from four years before he was born! Having an affair with someone literally from another decade was interesting, that was for sure. No Pandora Internet radio station covered this generation gap.
Although she appreciated Ron’s young body, she constantly felt old and fat and wrinkled around him. Technically, especially for her age, she wasn’t any of those things—working out paid off, but whenever they were together, which was rarely in public anyway, she always felt like people (the waiter, the store clerk) looked back and forth quickly between her and Ron in a questioning way. What is the relationship between these two people? And it was a fair question.
She sighed. Having had affairs before, she knew the key was to keep the emotion out of them. No “I love you.” Saying that or not saying it always seemed to fuck everything up. No promises for the future. Just enjoy the time you have, don’t waste energy being guilty, and don’t think too much about the whole thing. with Charles, she felt more secure because he was older. She wasn’t so physically insecure around him. His wife had died of breast cancer, and he was lonely. She filled that physical need for him, and he didn’t ask her for more. Their relationship was based on affection, companionship, and fun; the fun for her being the most treasured.
She could hear her teenage sons in the family room playing Call of Duty or Halo or whatever those godforsaken violent video games were that you told yourself as a parent you’d never, ever let your kids play. She remembered not wanting them to play with guns when they were little and wondered where parenting all went to hell. Middle school, she nodded to herself. Definitely the hormone hell of middle school.
Joe was in his office in the next room. It was a rare evening when the four of them were home together. Usually, the boys had sports practice or were out with friends, Joe was at the hospital, or she was at the office. The four of them operated pretty independently of one another, but it was dinnertime, so she walked into Joe’s office to ask if she should order some Chinese food for delivery. She hated cooking.
She walked in and Joe had stepped out of the room. His laptop was open and she saw the familiar g-chat screen. She wouldn’t have noticed it at all, except there was motion on the screen, accompanied by the faint bell sound that indicated a new message.
She didn’t mean to snoop; she had just been in the right place at the right time. She saw only a few lines:
5:21 PM Joe: Your pussy was so wet this morning.
Kayla: My body is always ready when I see you. ;) You were ready too.
5:22 PM Joe: My cock is definitely standing at attention when you enter a room.
Kayla: Well I can’t wait until it enters my room again soon, doctor.
Then, hearing Joe come back down the hall from the bathroom, she quickly left the room, returning to the kitchen. She felt sick. Forget Chinese food. She told the boys to heat up a frozen pizza and went upstairs to her room, flopping herself on the bed with tears in her eyes. Glancing at her Kindle, she knew losing herself in a few chapters of Fear of Flying tonight would help her avoid conversation with Joe. I am a huge hypocrite to be upset, she thought. I was just chatting with my boyfriend moment before. But something about seeing the sexual chat between her husband and another woman that felt like a punch in the stomach.
Why wouldn’t he have a girlfriend, she reasoned with herself—a brilliant, handsome doctor in great shape? And God knew he wasn’t getting laid at home. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex. She couldn’t remember the last time they had said “I love you” to one another. Months spilled into years in an unhappy marriage, and there was certainly no point in keeping track.
It was a marriage of convenience, had been from the start, since it took place right after she’d found out she was pregnant with the boys. They’d been dating and were getting along fine. When her diaphragm had failed, and she’d been knocked up, they had made the decision to marry. And now it was all coming back to haunt her.
She looked at Joe’s neat side of the nightstand: everything in its place on the dusted table, and her own bedside table, covered in paperwork and moisturizers, charging cords and books. The differences here were the differences between them. He liked things neat, she preferred messy.
She had never felt fulfilled in the marriage--she was starved for love, affection and attention, and the only thing Joe seemed to give attention to was his medical practice. She looked over at the picture on the dresser of her boys on the lacrosse field together. Love and romance had taken a backseat, except where she could find them in an ancillary way around her workplaces.
As a workaholic, it always made sense to Eva that her affairs that revolved somehow around her career. She let her mind wander back to a memory: she’d once fucked a judge in his own chambers after a trial; he was still wearing his robe! She compartmentalized Ron at her office in DC, Charles at her office in New York. Why wouldn’t Joe be compartmentalizing someone in Baltimore?
But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
Maggie and Dave finished lunch and the discussion of their daughter’s upcoming celebration. She had asked to meet with him, even though a phone call could easily have accomplished the interaction.
Why does it always come back to him? thought Maggie. Entire relationships, marriages, a whole decade between them now, and she never seemed to be able to cut whatever invisible cord kept them coming back together. Then again, he never seemed able to cut that rope, either.
“You have absolutely got to see this fantastic Art Deco building,” said Dave,. “It’s just a few blocks over. Do you have time?”
She did. No one was running a clock on her “Back in an hour” sign at the shop.
Smiling at this child-like excitement over simple old bricks and mortar, she asked, “So what’s the story of this poor unfortunate orphan building?”
“They were going to tear this beauty down,” said Dave as they rounded the corner toward the building. He suddenly stopped, pointing. “Just look at her! Original copper and black marble tile façade, even the original Deco lettering.”
“They just don’t build them like this anymore?” asked Maggie, figuring Dave’s signature comment was on its way.
“No one could afford to build a structure like this today,” said Dave. He smiled, producing a single key. “Wanna take a look?”
Maggie wasn’t as thrilled at the idea of dirty, abandoned buildings as Dave was, but she couldn’t resist his enthusiasm. She never could. “Sure,” she said, glad she’d worn vintage jeans for a living and not some Eva-style black skirt get-up.
“It was an old hotel,” said Dave as they walked inside. It was dark, musty and dusty like the rest of them, thought Maggie, though she was impressed by the beautiful architecture. The lobby’s red, white and black color scheme were all visible again, since the drop ceilings and newer flooring had been removed. Gilded cherubic faces seemed to gleam at her from every corner.
“I love that you do this,” said Maggie. “This probably would’ve ended up some new office building with cubicles and acoustic tile ceilings and blue conference rooms.”
“I’m glad it’s going to be a hotel again,” said Dave. He absentmindedly started rubbing Maggie’s shoulders. This turned her to putty and he knew it. She relaxed against his hands, taking in the view of the work in progress around her.
“These old places sure had a lot of charm and romance,” said Maggie.
“They still do,” said Dave. He turned her toward him, lifted her chin, and kissed her. His beard was rough, but Maggie had grown to like that many years before. She reached up and put her arms around him, savoring the soft familiarity of his flannel shirt. Their kiss grew in intensity and she felt him harden through his jeans. She grabbed his belt and pulled him closer to her.
“You’ve got to see this elevator,” said Dave, pulling Maggie across the lobby by the hand.
They stepped inside the freshly restored 1920s elevator. Maggie noted the deep sound of the “ding” as Dave pushed the number 13.
“It’s unusual for a building to have a 13th floor, but the top floor on this one is 13,” he said. As the floors rose, he passionately pinned her against the gold corner rail of the elevator. She grabbed his ass, spinning him around and throwing a Converse hi-topped foot on top of the rail, pressing her waist against his jeans to meet his excitement.
Ding.
The doors opened to reveal a giant ballroom spanning the entire thirteenth floor. Huge black marble columns were the only things spanning the expanse. Gilded floor-to-ceiling mirrors covered the walls, except for one entire wall of windows that looked out over the city. Since it was one of the tallest buildings, the view was magnificent. Elegant built-in seats were spaced across the width of the exterior.
He scooped Maggie off her feet, twirled her around the dance floor while she laughed, and gently placed her down on one of the window seats. She reached up, undid his belt buckle, and in seconds, they were naked. Their bodies so familiar with one another, yet each completely excited in this new, yet old public space. The possibility of workers appearing to paint or do plumbing was in the back of Maggie’s mind, but it didn’t stop her.
They made love with Dave kneeling on the window seat and Maggie’s ass pressed up against the window. She imagined which other buildings might be “enjoying” this view. After the delicious, frenzied moments of shared passion, she plopped herself down on the window seat and pressed her feet up on the window.
At that exact moment, her phone rang in her pocket. She smiled at Dave, rolling her eyes at the interruption. As she took the phone out of her jeans, which were dusty on the floor, and reached down to turn off the ringer, she heard a voice on the other end and realized she’d accidentally answered it.
“Hello?” asked the phone, with a soft laugh.
“Oh, hey Ted,” said Maggie. “I’m just in the middle of something. Let me give you a call back.”
She hung up, but when she turned back to Dave she saw the look of hurt in his eyes, regardless of how hard he’d tried to hide it. He dressed quickly.
“No, you go ahead and take your call, Maggie,” said Dave. “I really need to get back to the office.”
Maggie looked at him. “I didn’t mean to answer the damn thing,” she said. “I’m sorry. Can’t we just pick up where we left off?”
“I don’t know, Maggie,” said Dave. “Can we? Because your life seems to be pretty full already.”
“Aw, Dave, come on, we’ve never let other people come between us,” said Maggie as she dressed; the wide-open nature of the floor plan and lack of heating made the building very chilly.
He didn’t speak again, and she could sense he had shut down. He pressed the elevator button, and now the “Ding” of the bell sounded like an accusation to her.
He frowned slightly at her as he turned to leave the building, taking out the key to lock the door behind them.
Zarina couldn’t wait to see how this one was going to go. She turned on lights and coffeemakers at Zoomdweebies. She was hoping someone, anyone would actually discuss Fear of Flying and not blow it off like they did with every other book. It’s completely understandable, she reasoned, to get bored by Hawthorne or Tolstoy, with their old-fashioned language, but Erica Jong drops f-bombs, masturbation stories and lesbian fantasies like they’re hot. There is just no way in hell those ladies could pick up those books and put them down again unfinished. The damn book is even short!
She warmed up the freshly-made blueberry banana bread as the Scarlet Letter Society women entered and sat at their usual table.
“He’s cheating on me,” said Eva, defeated.
Maggie laughed. Eva glared at her. Lisa lowered her eyes.
“Who? Joe? So what do you care?” asked Maggie. “You haven’t been in love with your husband in a million years. Did you think he’d taken a vow of celibacy since the last time you fucked him, what, two years ago?”
“I still think that would really hurt,” said Lisa quietly.
“Well it does, and thank you for understanding, Lisa,” said Eva, narrowing her eyes at Maggie, who rolled hers. “It sucks. Of course I can’t think of a single reason why he wouldn’t be fucking someone else. But when you find it on a computer screen, it’s so raw and sexual and powerful, it just feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you.”
“Aw, I’m sorry, girl, I didn’t mean to be insensitive,” said Maggie. “Remember, the whole reason I’m in the middle of a divorce is because of cheating. And not just my cheating, but his. Matt wasn’t a bad guy, but he couldn’t keep it in his pants. The only one I ever cheated on him with was Dave, and that doesn’t count.”
“Wait. WHAT?” said Eva. “You cheated on your second husband with your first husband?”
“I don’t think it counts if you’re cheating with your first husband,” said Maggie. “It’s not like it was a new guy. I didn’t start seeing Ted until after Matt and I were separated.”
“How long were you sleeping with your ex?” Lisa dared ask.
“Oh, I never stopped fucking Dave,” said Maggie. “To this day.”
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, Margaret,” said Eva. “Are you completely kidding me? I can’t even understand who you’re cheating on with whom around here. Didn’t you cheat on Dave in the first place during your first marriage, which you then ended with divorce? I am so glad Facebook has an “It’s Complicated” relationship status for people like you.”
“’The bonds of wedlock are so heavy that it takes two to carry them—sometimes three’” read Lisa from the notes in her worn journal. “It’s from Fear of Well, technically it’s an Alexandre Dumas quote, but Jong uses it at the beginning of Chapter 8 in Fear of Flying.”
“Well ain’t that the truth,” said Maggie. “Dave and I divorced because at the time our marriage couldn’t handle the loss of our child. When Brandon died, and we had been through the eighteen months of leukemia treatments, we just had been in mourning too hard and too long for the marriage to handle and we drifted apart. But we never stopped loving each other.”
“It does make sense, Maggie. It’s not the traditional path, but it’s your path, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I think it’s sweet that you and Dave still connect that way. And guess what? I read the book,” said Eva.
“You read the book?” asked Lisa and Maggie at the same time.
“Well don’t seem so surprised about it,” said Eva, smiling. “Although I guess it is technically my first one. Yeah, after I found out Joe was cheating, I just stayed up ‘til 3 am reading it.”
Zarina set down the plate of warm bread and smiled at Eva.
“I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but did I overhear you just say you read the book?”
“She read the book!” said Maggie. “It’s a miracle! And we know Lisa read the book, because she took some motherfucking notes in her little notebook here, for cryin’ out loud. This will be the actual first book discussion of the Scarlet Letter Society! Hooray for us!”
Zarina looked around at the three women. “I’m glad those book orders are coming in handy. Enjoy your meeting.”
Maggie looked at Zarina. “You haven’t read Fear of Flying, have you, Z?”
“I actually have,” said Zarina, adding a small white lie. “For a college women’s literature class.”
“You should sit down and join us,” said Lisa.
“You don’t seem like much of a potential club member, but if you’d like to sit in and hang out with us old hags,” said Maggie, “we’d love to have a young hipster like yourself for the first time.”
Zarina sat down, excited to join the ladies. “I cheated on my college boyfriend with a girl one time,” she said. “I mean, if that is good enough for a one-time guest pass into SLS.”
“Is it even cheating if it’s with a girl?” said Eva, laughing.
“It’s close enough,” said Maggie, smiling. “It barely passes as cheating because when the guy finds out, he usually just thinks it’s hot and wants to watch, that’s all.”
The women laughed.
“So, who wants to talk about the zipless fuck first?” said Maggie.
“I think it’s a conundrum, almost an oxymoron,” started Lisa. “Jong defines the zipless fuck as sex with no consequences, but in order to have sex in the first place, zippers are coming down.”
“I just love Isadora Wing so much,” said Eva. “She’s the best feminine literary character I’ve ever encountered.”
“That is possibly because she’s the first literary character you’ve ever encountered,” joked Maggie. “Just kidding. Well obviously she’s my favorite, since I named children and businesses after her. I love her strength. And her admission of weakness. I love her humanity.”
Lisa read from her journal.
“’We drove to the hotel and said goodbye. How hypocritical to go upstairs with a man you don’t want to fuck, leave the one you do sitting there alone, and then, in a state of great excitement, fuck the one you don’t want to fuck while pretending he’s the one you do. That’s called fidelity. That’s called monogamy. That’s called civilization and its discontents.’”
“That is some complicated shit,” said Zarina. “I love Jong’s honesty. She’s a pioneer. For 1973, this book is a groundbreaker. Any bullshit literary criticism it received came from the male-dominated mindset held even by some overly old-fashioned women who obviously weren’t getting laid.”
“She definitely wasn’t afraid to say what women were thinking in the 70s,” said Eva. “And she said it with great style.”
“I like the tug-of-war Isadora has within herself,” Lisa said. “It’s so raw and genuine. Her perspective is so unique and interesting to experience. You genuinely care about what happens to her, even though she’s a fictional character. I felt like she was real.”
“Well there has always been a lot of discussion about how much Erica Jong there is in Isadora Wing,” said Maggie. “That may be why the character is so real—because in some ways, she is real. You know, the whole ‘all fiction is nonfiction’ thing.”
“What did you think about the ending?” asked Eva. “I felt like I wanted it to be more Hollywood—the big embrace.”
“But we know that in the end, even in the end of a book that is all about sex, in the end she chooses love,” said Lisa. “Ok, one more quote, and then I promise I’ll stop: ‘Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love is everything it’s cracked up to be. That’s why people are so cynical about it. It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.’”
“We all cheat for a reason,” said Maggie. “And it’s usually because we feel like we’re missing love. Jong lays that out. Call us a whore or a slut or sew a goddamn scarlet letter on our damn t-shirt if you want, but at the end of the day, we all just want to go to bed with someone who makes us feel loved, and wake up next to that same person the next morning.”
“Yeah,” said Eva. “It just sucks that love is a complete pain in the ass sometimes.”
The women laughed softly, and knowingly.