As the David Gray CD wound down for the second time in a row, Lance marveled again at the most beautiful star blanket shining away over the spot where the James Wedzin painting used to hang in Duane and Juanita’s living room. The pattern was violet and gold. It vibrated—no—it hummed, Lance thought, so loudly in how it presented itself that he had to look away. He felt his eyes cross every time he tried to focus on it.
He wondered if the James Wedzin painting he’d commissioned with two tents in a northern meadow had been taken by Duane when he left or if it was under the blanket.
As Shari and Juanita talked in the kitchen, Lance sipped his coffee and marvelled at how beautiful they looked tonight: spring dresses, hair down, ankle bracelets sparkling over their right ankles, nails done, glowing. You’d never guess one of my goddesses was fighting for her life, he thought. He glanced at the star blanket and remembered asking James Wedzin to add the second tent to the meadow so Duane and Juanita would always know he and Shari would never be far away from them as couples, as family. As MC for their wedding three years ago, Lance presented the painting with Shari at his side with the words, “You can always count on us for help. The good times and the growing pains. We will be there for you both.”
And they embraced.
Now, as Lance looked around the home, it looked like Juanita had been robbed. The George Littlechild, the Susan Point, the Chris Paul—all of the big paintings that used to hang proudly in Duane and Juanita’s home were gone.
Duane had left Juanita. Tonight, during supper, Lance observed half of Juanita’s music and art collection gone, and it felt official. Duane had not told Lance why, nor were there any real warning signs. Juanita had returned a week ago from her photo shoot to half a home. Duane had choreographed a moving truck and helpers for when his wife was at an appointment.
You think you know someone, Lance thought as he looked at Juanita and felt an ache for her. Duane, you fucking coward. What a horrible year. Juanita had been diagnosed with breast cancer. He wasn’t entirely clear how, but the date for a double mastectomy was looming and, just when Duane should have been there to hold and comfort his wife, he’d simply vanished.
Lance had tried Duane’s cell, his e-mail, his work. Duane was gone. When he thought about it, were the signs there? He and Shari had been in their own whirlwind of realizing they were pregnant and then losing the baby ten weeks in. To cope, he’d hurled himself into teaching and his own work of gathering stories, so he’d missed the last three sweats at UBC. He hadn’t seen Duane in weeks. Weeks, he pondered. Was that all it took for a marriage to unhinge?
His own distance with Duane had started well over a year ago. The gang had a ritual: to meet every second Sunday at a new diner for brunch. The deal was one person paid for everyone and they took turns reading the “Savage Love” sex advice column out loud to the others. Over the past few years, quite a few of the articles no longer applied to them.
“We’re too vanilla now,” Lance joked.
“It’s starting to feel that way,” Shari agreed.
And they laughed. Yes, fisting, golden showers and orgies didn’t really apply to any of them, but these reading sessions that used to be hilarious or juicy, now, for the past few months, had added a tension to the table.
Lance should have realized that this was exposing the valley between Juanita and Duane—long before the diagnosis.
“Lance,” Juanita called. “How’s your coffee?”
He looked at her and smiled. “Perfect. So can I ask the obvious: where do you think Duane is?”
Shari gave him her firm look, the one that stated that this was not the time.
Juanita looked at them both. “Let me go pee and we’ll talk, okay? We’re celebrating four glorious things tonight—maybe more, but let me get prepared, okay?”
Shari put her hand on Juanita’s shoulder. “Pee, Sister. Pee.”
Juanita left and Shari whispered, “Is this the best time?”
Lance shrugged. “Don’t you want to know what happened?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “What a fucker.”
She went back to doing the dishes.
Celebrating four glorious things? he thought. That was strange: Juanita had asked that both he and Shari bring songs that mattered deeply to them, but she also asked that they save telling each other which song it was. Lance had brought “If only tonight we could sleep” by the Cure because it brought him into complete surrender every time he listened to it. He’d trance out and remember the first time he and Shari made love: looking into each other’s eyes, he asking himself if this was really going to happen. He’d been crazy about her for over a year before he asked her out, so he didn’t want to wreck anything. The first time he made love to her, he didn’t hold back. He took his time kissing her, going down on her, tasting her. She marvelled at him and told him so, after.
“Wow,” he remembered her laughing into her pillow. “I’m so sorry I went preverbal there. Wow.”
Lance, even now, nodded at the memory. “Need help?” he asked.
“No,” she said, “you cooked. Rest.”
She gave him her doe-eyes. “What are you thinking about over there? Where did you go just now?”
“Oh,” he said. “I’m just thinking about the first time you let me make love to you.”
She laughed. “Shhhh.”
He winked at her and felt the blood rush at the thought of them lying together in their home, with all of the windows open to create a warm breeze. Her cool body against his, cuddling, dreaming. He marvelled at his wife. Not only was the miscarriage something they honoured together, Shari had said the day after, “Now we know we can have a child, Lance. Thank you. Bring me our daughter. I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She’s waiting. I feel like this was a test run and we passed. Now we know. This is our time to build our nest before she comes.”
She had touched his face at Kits Beach in a new way. He couldn’t name it, but Shari was a new woman now. They would conceive and they would begin their family. This was their time to celebrate their fertility. Lance had had his vasectomy reversed and the anguish that he was not fertile was no longer a worry. He was “firing live” as his doctor said, and he and Shari were trying again.
Most wonderfully, Lance thought, was a message that came to him when they were both receiving acupuncture from a fertility specialist. Lance was drifting when the softest voice spoke to him. It said simply, “When you make love with her body, make love to her spirit.” He woke from the deepest island inside himself and had not told her this. It was his secret that he would share later.
Tonight, they’d just shared a feast of fresh sockeye fried in his famous lemon and butter sauce to blackened perfection—both Shari and Juanita loved the skin to be charred—on a bed of garlic and lemon couscous, some garlic mashed potatoes and one of Shari’s avacado salads. Lance was so proud of himself as he’d cooked most of it. He’d used flour and a mix he’d created himself out of herbs from the local farmers’ market. Now he sipped his favourite coffee. It wasn’t Starbucks or Timmies: it was the Safeway Breakfast Blend. Every sip took him back to when he and Shari first got together in his tiny apartment and the days that would blur into one another of music, reading together, sex, walks, feasts, concerts. He rarely vacuumed his hardwood floors as they were covered in sand from Kits Beach, and he thought that waking to sand in your toes was one of the sexiest things in the world. He’d brought a pound of coffee with him tonight and decided he’d leave it so every time they came back to check on Juanita it would be a comfort. She’d need a lot of help in the months ahead. Not just with Duane but with the surgery and the everything after. And they’d be there. He’d already told his department head, Brian, what was going on and arrangements were already in place to get him out of the classroom and away from a few of his other obligations. Brian had lost his own wife three years earlier to breast cancer, so he told Lance to be careful, since Brian’s wife had had all the assurances that she was going to make it, but three months later was gone.
Juanita came out of the bathroom wiping her hands on her dress. She carefully took her favourite mug—a smiling sun with two stars beside it—from the table, walked across the living room and sat across from Lance in her favourite chair. Beside it were her books. She was always reading three or four at a time and she curled her legs up beside her. She was not only tanned, she was glowing. Vancouver’s summer sun had lightened a few strands of her hair and this only brought out her foxlike features and her freckles on the nose and cheeks. Lance had always had a quiet crush on Juanita, and it bloomed now as she sat across from him.
Shari sat beside him and held his hand. He put his coffee down and waited for Juanita to speak.
“Can I tell you about this star blanket?”
Lance nodded and he felt Shari’s feet wiggle under his leg. He couldn’t resist: he took his free hand and wrapped his fingers around the curve of her ankle.
Juanita looked at the star blanket and ran her fingers along the fabric of her seat. “When I was about 14, I used to play spin the bottle with my friends and a couple of kids from the rez at an older girl’s house. It was fun. If you spun on a girl, you kissed a girl. If you spun on a boy, you kissed him. ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ was the grand finale. It all led up to that. That was four people the bottle chose that had to go into this huge closet and make out for seven minutes.”
“Four people?” Shari asked. “Wow.”
“Sounds like fun,” Lance said.
“It was. I often think back to that time. I couldn’t wait for Fridays to roll around.”
“Why Fridays?” Shari asked.
“Bingo. I guess some would call us ‘Bingo orphans’ but we took care of each other.”
Lance had a flashback of a younger Juanita kissing other girls. Finding the faces of boys in the dark. Tongues and breath. Breasts cupped through shirts and under. The first time you felt the warmth of someone’s tummy. Fingers finding their way to heat and wetness. The discovery of fur and how someone tastes.
“So we had fun, but our host, Lisa, for whatever reason, never got chosen by the bottle for anything. It would literally pass her by every single time. It became a bad joke and she’d always be outside the closet for our make-out sessions, so one day we went to her home and she had a star blanket like this but bigger waiting in the back yard. We all asked, ‘Hey, what’s this? Are we playing outside tonight?’
“Lisa had a different plan, a new plan. She said, ‘Let’s try something new. Rather than all of us waiting to be chosen, why don’t we throw this blanket up in the air and we all run under and we make out for a whole hour?’”
Juanita ran her fingers through her long, thick hair and smiled. “We all looked at each other and realized what she was proposing: a full-on semi-clothed orgy for one whole hour. She’d cleared all the rocks so it was the softest grass and she had the tallest fence so no one would see us. It was just us. Our circle. I think there were just as many boys as there were girls and all of a sudden we got quiet. None of us could believe what was about to happen. The next thing I knew, we all held the corners of the star blanket and threw it up in the air before hitting the ground and making out. I remember she even set her dad’s alarm clock. She had two extension cords hooked up and everything. She played the Eurythmics on a ghetto blaster. Touch was the album. I get goosebumps every time I listen to it. We all had to swear we’d never tell anyone what was happening and we did that all summer. Every Friday. It was hot. Making out with two or three people at once. Being held. Touched. Groped. We had this biter. Amanda. Her bites got harder as she lost herself. It was hysteria and hunting all at once. That summer saved me. It got me through a lot. I told that story to my angel on Cancer Connections and she mailed me this blanket.”
Lance reached for his glass of water and realized he’d been holding his breath at this story. It was magic. He saw that the book on top of Juanita’s pile was The Breast Health Book, her Bible as she called it. He could see pressed flowers of all kinds used as bookmarks.
“Wow,” Shari said. “You did that all summer?”
“We did,” Juanita said and sipped her tea.
“I would have loved that,” Shari said and touched Lance’s face. “I know someone else here who would have loved it, too.” She wiggled her toes under his leg.
Lance blushed and looked down. He could feel a new spirit in the room: one that welcomed questions. “So where did Duane go?”
Juanita took a big breath and looked down. “Oh, he’s fucking one of his Iowaska sisters.”
“What?” Lance and Shari asked together.
Juanita nodded. “I should have known. We had sex once every two days for years and it just tapered off. His phone went off in the middle of the night a few weeks ago, and it was like he was on fire to get out of the room and turn it off.”
“How long has this been happening?” Lance asked.
“Long enough, I guess,” Juanita sighed. “I guess old Enaud didn’t want a breastless woman around so he traded me in for a new and younger model.”
“Enaud?” Lance asked.
“I read one of the e-mails his Iowaska sister wrote. Apparently, Duane had a vision in one of their ceremonies where he saw his name backwards and now he only answers to Enaud in their little group.”
Lance felt his cheeks burn. “How sad.”
“I’m so sorry,” Shari said.
“It’s not your fault,” Juanita said. “You’ve had a tough spring.”
Lance looked to Shari and it was true. Juanita had been there through it all. Where had Duane been? Well, Lance thought. Wasn’t it obvious?
Shit! Lance felt suddenly furious with Duane. Why the hell didn’t he tell him he and Juanita were in trouble? The last time they’d been together was at the Commodore Ballroom to see a show, but, even then, there hadn’t been a lot of conversation. Just the standard, “Here we go” when the band took the stage and, after, a brief hug goodbye as they were parked in different spots downtown. They walked away quickly as they both had to work early the next morning.
Lance let out a sigh. When he thought about it, the last few times he and Duane had gone for coffee, Duane had spent a lot of time checking his e-mails and texting, and there was a distance between them. When Lance thought about it, Duane had never been fully present after the miscarriage. He’d stopped by with Juanita and visited for a bit, but when was the last time they’d had a heart-to-heart—months?
“The good news,” Juanita said, “is my portraits are in.”
“They are?” Shari asked. “Can I see?”
“Portraits?” Lance asked. “Oh—portraits!” He remembered.
“I’d love to see them,” Shari said.
Juanita winked at them both. “I’ve hung the portraits up in our… my room.”
The day Juanita returned to find Duane gone, she’d gone off to a photographer on Oak and 16th who did the most gorgeous portraits of women and their breasts. Juanita wanted photos of herself topless and beautiful. Lance wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask to see them. He deeply wanted to. He adored Juanita as a friend and woman, but he was also so scared for her.
What if she was gone in a few months?
Juanita and Shari were both slender with powerful bodies. Summer had darkened both of them, though Shari had more freckles. For cup size, they were pretty well matched, Lance thought and Shari’s breasts were beautiful: not too big, not too small. Shari’s Chipewyan nipples would be darker, but…
Lance sat up as he felt himself getting aroused knowing that he may get a privileged revenge-viewing now that all bets were off with old Enaud.
“I’d love to see these,” Shari said. “I’m sure Lance would, too.” She gave Lance a wink.
Lance blushed and looked down.
“Well,” Juanita smiled. “Perhaps you’ll both get to, but I have a question first.”
“It’s your night,” Shari said. “Ask away.”
“Lance,” Juanita said. “You told us a story once. I want you to tell it to me again.”
“Story?” Lance frowned. “Which one?”
“The one about you in college. Your roommate.”
“You know,” his wife said. “The sleepwalker.”
“Oh,” Lance blushed. “The sleepwalker.”
“Yes,” Juanita said. “I don’t think you ever told us the whole story. I want to hear it again.”
Shari levelled her eyes at him. “Yes, that is one of the most curious stories you’ve ever told. I would like to hear it, too.”
Lance reached for his water. “I don’t want to get into trouble.”
“Oh come on,” Shari said. “This was way before you knew me. You have diplomatic immunity.”
“We’re under the Star Blanket of Trust,” Juanita added. “Consider this a dare from a dear friend. And it’s a full moon out. I want you to tell the story, the whole story and don’t leave anything out.”
Lance felt himself gulp for air. This was a dangerous story because it was scandalous with its perceived innocence. He looked at his wife. “Okay, but if I tell it, nobody can get mad at me. This was when I was, like, 21. I was totally single and innocent.”
“Oh yes,” Shari nudged him playfully. “Mister Innocent. Plus, it’s a dare.”
Juanita giggled and Lance knew he had to tell the story.
He took a big breath and ran his palms back and forth over his legs to get going. “Okay, so there was this one summer where I was in college. All of the guy roommates went home for the summer, and I decided to stay and work for minimum wage and enjoy the city. But we had this one foreign student who moved in to help pay rent.”
“Did she have nice feet?” Shari teased.
“Baby,” Lance said and looked down.
“Oh come on, Lance,” Juanita said. “Everyone knows you love feet.”
Lance blushed again, this time deeper in his cheeks, hotter.
“Baby,” Shari said softly and pushed her left foot into his hand. He held it and felt himself getting so turned on. He nodded.
“She was beautiful, but I was totally not in her league in any way. I couldn’t even speak to her.”
“You? The charmer?”
He shook his head. He loved how the two women he loved dearly were waiting to hear this story—all of it—this confession of confessions. Would he tell it all? It was a dare and he did have diplomatic immunity. He took a big breath. “I think it was the second night. Vancouver was in a heat wave. The second night she’d moved in she came into my room and started wrestling me with her bra and panties on. It wasn’t a fight. It was this struggle. I slept naked so I had no idea what was going on. She started riding me and struggling but her eyes were closed. God, she was strong. She’d hold me down and ride me through her panties, and I’d have to keep her from grabbing and pulling my hair. It was crazy.”
Both Juanita and Shari started laughing.
“Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped. She just stood up and left. She literally just stood up when I got hard and she went into her room. The next morning she acted as though nothing happened. It happened on the third night. I think at around two in the morning. She’d go out dancing with her friends and come home to me and this whole riding ritual would start.”
“Wait,” Shari said. “Were you inside her through her panties?”
Lance frowned. “Maybe. All I know is it gave me a backwards boner.”
The ladies burst out laughing. Lance shook his head and kept going. “It just seemed as soon as I got hard she’d leave. The whole point was to wrestle me and rub against me just enough and then she’d leave.”
“Wow,” Juanita said.
“I’m starting to hear some new information here,” Shari said. “Keep going.”
“Uh oh,” Lance said. “Am I in trouble?”
“Baby,” Shari said. “It’s a full moon. You didn’t even know me then. Full diplomatic immunity, remember?”
He and Shari laughed as this was an old joke between them.
“Hurry,” Juanita said. “Get to the juicy.”
Lance ran his fingers through his hair and took a quick sip of water. “Okay. Okay. I think it was around day four of this when I finally said, ‘Can we talk about what happens at night?’ To which she acted totally shocked. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘Am I sleepwalking?’ ‘Sleep Wrestling more like it!’ I said, and she started to cry. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘When I drink or when I get stressed, I sleepwalk or sleep wrestle.’ It happens during exam time. One time I woke up in a tent I’d assembled in the next door neighbour’s yard. Apparently, I can read directions in my sleep. The only problem is it doesn’t matter if I’m clothed or not. Was I naked?’”
“‘No,’ I said. ‘You’re in your bra and panties.’ ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I can move out. I’ll find a new place.’ ‘No,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to. It’s just that you pull my hair and press down on me so hard I get headaches after.’ ‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘I’m so ashamed.’ And she hugged me. ‘My parents are so worried I’ll walk out into the city naked and end up Lord knows where.’”
“Holy shit I love this story,” Juanita cheered. “So, dear Lance, whatever did you do?”
Lance smiled. “Well, I couldn’t turn her out into the cold cruel world, could I?”
“No you could not,” Shari beamed. “Dear husband, please carry on.”
“Well,” Lance smiled. “I was there for her during that summer. She was under a lot of stress and came into my room each night to wrestle me. Could I help it if I slept naked? Could I help it if sometimes she was naked? I had to protect her.”
Lance felt his erection build. He wiggled and was aware both women caught that. He cleared his throat. “It was a great summer for both of us.”
“But how did you know it was consensual?” Shari asked.
“Well,” Lance said. And the truth was he honestly could not remember what he’d shared before, so he decided to go for it and share it all. “At first, she’d press into me and get me hard and leave. But, after her confession, she’d come in without any undies on, already wet. It was like the air could taste her.”
He stopped. Where did that line come from?
“Wow,” Juanita said. “Go on.”
“Well, I’d always be under her and she had this hair pulling thing she did that I hated but, soon, she’d rub against me and cum from brushing. It was riding without penetration and she’d lay off the hair pulling if I sucked on her tits or licked her nipples, but she’d stop as soon as she came and she’d leave.”
“Did you ever get to cum?” Juanita asked, genuinely concerned.
“No,” Lance said and felt his voice lighten with arousal. “I never did.”
“Oh, poor Lancey,” Shari said and squeezed his thigh. “Talk about a cruel summer.”
He shrugged and remembered her body. She had pink nipples. Tiny ones that swelled to twice their size. He loved to push her breasts together when she was on top and lick them back and forth as if they were one. “I learned to take care of myself, shall we say.” Both women giggled. “And I lived for the night. Man, she was strong.” He didn’t need to close his eyes to remember what a gorgeous body she had. Alicia was her name. From Italy? Yes, he was sure it was Italy. Or maybe Sicily. Wait. Maybe it was Madrid. She’d trimmed her muff so she could wear sundresses but her lips were bare. He remembered the very tip of her was soaked with her own juices and there was a night where she actually climbed on his face and ground herself into his nose and mouth until she climaxed before climbing off and going to bed. He remembered walking like a blind man to the bathroom to wash her off of his face and being shocked there was so much of her. He loved it.
“So you two never did it?” Juanita asked.
“No,” Lance shrugged. “I don’t think it was about that. I don’t think either of us were ready for sex. This was a way around it.”
“So how did you two leave each other?”
Lance thought about it. “She got into another program and her time was up. I drove her to the airport and she gave me a long hug. When I returned home, she’d left me a gift. A pair of her see-through panties under my pillow. The ones she used on several night visits. The ones she came in fastest.”
“Wow!” Juanita said and started clapping.
“So what did you do with the panties?” Shari asked, and her voice was the inquisitive voice, the one that wanted the absolute truth, the one that would know the exact second he fibbed.
Lance decided to push it. “I… shall we say…I relaxed in a gentlemanly way… for months with them.”
“Around your cock?” Juanita asked.
Both Shari and Lance looked at Juanita and started laughing out of shock.
“Juanita,” Shari said. “You’ve never said that word before.”
“Well, that story gets me so horny just thinking about it. How could I not?”
Shari looked at Lance with surprise. Wow, she mouthed.
Lance felt bewildered. “Um, so the question is?”
“My question is, Lance, did you beat off with it around your cock or did you beat off sniffing it?”
“Both,” Lance said and felt something leave his body.
Shari looked at both of them. “Whoah.”
They were all quiet.
“Wow,” Shari said again, to the story or to this new spirit in the room: Juanita’s arousal and power.
“You know,” Juanita said, sipping her tea. “You two saved our sex life.”
“What?” Shari asked. “How?”
Juanita sat up. “If this is my night, I want to tell you both. I’ve always had problems cumming. I take forever sometimes.”
Shari and Lance nodded.
“But when old Enaud and I would have sex, I had this image of you two—all these years—this one image that would push me over. That’s what I’d call it. I’d build and build and you two would help me.”
“What was it?” Shari asked and reached for Lance’s hand. He took it and squeezed gently.
“Well,” Juanita said. “If this is my night and I have diplomatic immunity I’ll tell you, but I need wine first.”
“Is this wise?” Shari asked.
“Sister,” Juanita said. “They’re going to take my breasts. If there was ever a night for wine and enchantment, this is it—plus it’s a full moon. Do we not all have diplomatic immunity tonight under our auntie in the sky?”
Shari cleared her throat. “I’d love a glass with you.”
Lance looked at Juanita in a new way: she was free now. On her own. Everything she’d wanted to do, she now could. She truly had nothing to lose.
He felt Juanita’s eyes on him and he looked away. This had been happening over the past year: an awareness of one another. There had been an afternoon in the Farmers’ Market on Granville Island where he and Shari had joined Duane and Juanita for some Christmas shopping. In the grand push and pull of the crowd, Lance had reached out to run the back of his hand along the inside of Shari’s wrist and hand—only to realize he’d done this to Juanita and she’d not resisted or stopped him. In fact, they’d easily had seconds holding hands like lovers together before he jumped out of shock and apologized to Juanita, but she’d only smiled and turned away to continue shopping. He’d wanted to tell Shari about it but felt that it was an innocent mistake, but, still, it was a sharing. Juanita’s skin was so soft. He realized that the only time they ever touched was in their welcome and until-next-time hugs. What happened on Granville Island was skin on skin, and it had been an uncurling of a hand into the soft wrist of a woman he adored. And she let him.
“Honey, are you okay over there?” Shari asked as she poured the wine into a long stemmed glass.
Lance nodded. “Perfect.” His voice cracked and they all laughed.
Lance could feel the hottest blood inside himself floating near the top of his skin. He took a deep breath and realized that his body was filled with the hottest and most exquisite humming. His chest felt tender underneath his shirt and he found himself breathing through his mouth. His body was purring with arousal and what would happen next.
“You know, Lance,” Juanita said. “Women talk.”
Lance smiled and spoke softly. “No…really?”
Juanita giggled.
“Wait,” Shari said and returned with the wine. She handed one to Juanita and kissed the top of her head softly. “For you.”
“Thank you,” Juanita said and they touched glasses so quietly.
Shari sat down and kissed Lance before turning to Juanita. “What was this about us saving your sex life?”
Both women raised their glasses and sipped slowly.
“Yum,” Juanita said. “Oh yes. Duane or Enaud always complained I was never wet enough. We always had to use lube. I could see it when we’d have to stop halfway through to find the bottle. I made the mistake of reminding him once of something called foreplay and he never let me forget it. With him, it was always the same thing: missionary or doggy style with minimal anything before or after.”
Lance imagined that and found himself rolling deeper into arousal. This was getting closer to something growing between all of them.
“I thought you said he was a cuddler,” Shari said.
“Oh he was,” Juanita said. “Old Enaud was a great cuddler. He’s probably cuddling someone named Lisa right now.”
“Oh fuck Lisa. Let’s keep this going,” Shari said. “I’m really interested in what image you have of Lance and me that helped ‘push you over.’”
“Well,” Juanita said and took a sip of her wine. “Old Enaud liked to watch a little porn to get in the mood. At first, I tolerated it but, after a while, I liked to watch, too. There’s this one woman—I can never remember her name. I have a crush on her. I love watching her. The image I have of you both is that while Duane was fucking me, Lance…” Juanita stopped and covered her face. “Oh I can’t say it. I’m too shy.”
Lance let his breath out at the same time Shari did.
“It’s okay,” Shari said. “Full diplomatic immunity, remember?”
“Whew!” Juanita said and looked up to the ceiling. “Okay, but you can’t look at me when I tell you. I’ll get too embarrassed.”
“Okay okay,” Shari laughed. “Lance, let’s look away.”
Lance felt his face burn with excitement. He looked at the star blanket.
“Are you looking away?”
“We are,” Shari called. “Where are you looking?”
“Into a pillow,” Juanita said. “The bunny one I gave you—from the Smoking Lily.”
“The one I picked out,” Lance said with a shiver. His cocked ached with hot blood-arterial blood—finding its way in a waterfall of arousal as it began coursing through his entire body.
“So as Enaud would be fucking me, I’d imagine …Oh my God! I can’t say it!” And she started to laugh. Then Shari started. Then Lance started. It was a laugh from the heart. They laughed and laughed and until they were all out of breath and Lance felt his wife curl her toes under his leg.
“So blah de blah and blah de blah,” Juanita raised a glass. “And I would come every single time.”
Lance let out the biggest breath and pressed his palms into his eyes. “Okay. Wait. You cannot cheap out on us like that.”
“Oh yes I can,” Juanita said. “I just did!”
“Juanita…” Shari said, “you’re turning me on. Don’t hold back now.”
“I can’t!” Juanita yelled with a smile. “I can’t say it. We just have to do it, okay? No words. There are no words for how I can explain it. We just need to do it. Together. As friends.”
“Oh God,” Lance thought and rubbed his hands together quickly, as if starting a fire the old way. “This is it. This is what’s been building all night.”
Lance knew Shari had fooled around with women when she was younger. She’d had a girlfriend one summer who kept in touch years later on Facebook and Lance did not mind at all. To think of his tough Dene wife making love to another woman was something special to him, something they never needed to talk about.
“You know,” Juanita said. “I’ve always felt that when men marry, they find invisible wives along the way. Sometimes it’s at work, sometimes it’s through friends, but, Lance, I’ve always considered myself to be your invisible wife.”
Lance looked down. He felt her words blanket him but didn’t know what to say. He was suddenly terrified he’d lose her. Too soon, he thought. What she was now facing had come too soon. But she would not fight it alone. He and Shari would do whatever it took to help her.
“I’ve told Shari this and I don’t know if she told you,” Juanita said.
Lance felt a tear slide down his face. “She hasn’t.” Why was he crying? He was, out of surprise and dread. He wiped his eyes. Shari squeezed Lance’s hand that this was okay. This was important. Everyone knew there was a chance Juanita would not survive her operation. She’d lost her mother to breast cancer and an auntie had passed away on the operating table. Her heart had simply stopped. Perhaps out of heartbreak at the thought of losing her breasts.
Lance dry swallowed and nodded. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. You’ve always been there. Both of you.”
“You know,” Shari said. “I believe all these years, Juanita, you’ve been my invisible wife, too.”
Juanita smiled. “Really?”
“You carried me through the infertility years and our miscarriage. I’ve always loved you. You taught me to dress, to do my hair. You were my sister but also my wife. I’ve had my thoughts over the years. You have a beautiful body, an exquisite body. I’ve had my thoughts of you when Lance and I were making love.”
“You have?” Lance and Juanita asked together.
“Oh yes,” Shari said. “Lance, do I have diplomatic immunity?”
“Of course,” Lance said.
“Ummm… okay,” Shari said. “I sometimes pretend that when we fuck, Lance is you but with a cock.”
Lance heard himself inhale at the boldness of this, the perfection of this.
“Wow,” everyone said together and it was like the room exhaled together. Lance felt the hottest deepest blood inside himself swell through him once again.
“I like that,” Juanita said. “I like that a lot.”
The women—his goddesses—raised a glass and drained the rest of their wine.
“And, Lance,” she said. “I’ve always loved your eyes. They’re so tender, so sincere. But they’re fierce, too. It turns me on the way you look at Shari. I can tell that you are her wolf.”
Lance blushed. “Thank you.”
“Don’t you just want to grab his sideburns and fuck his face?” Shari asked.
Juanita burst out laughing. “I’ve thought about it.”
Lance blushed and looked down. He was speechless.
“Mmm,” Shari purred. “This feels nice.” She laughed and ran her fingers through her husband’s hair. Lance felt both honoured and deliciously shocked.
“Can we see your pictures?” Shari asked. “Your portraits?”
Juanita thought about it. “Maybe. They’re upstairs in my bedroom.”
My bedroom, Lance thought. It’s all hers now.
“Before I show you,” Juanita said, “I wanted to let you in on a secret.”
“Oh?” Lance and Shari looked at each other.
“The four things we’re celebrating?” Lance asked.
“Yes. I’ve been working on something,” Juanita said.
“In secret?” Shari said.
“Yup,” Juanita said, “and I wanted to share some incredible news with you—but you can’t tell anyone.”
“What is it?” Lance asked.
“Well,” Juanita said slyly. “I’ve been working on a dream of mine ever since my diagnosis and it looks like it may have taken off in a good way.”
“What is it?” Lance and Shari asked.
“I’m glad you asked,” Juanita said. She pulled out a T-shirt that read, “Unless it makes my nipples sing or helps find the cure for all cancers, I don’t want to hear about it.”
Shari and Lance laughed.
“Cool shirt,” Lance said. “Where did you get it?”
“I made it,” Juanita beamed. “It’s being picked up by an organization and it’ll be used to help fundraise.”
“Congratulations,” Shari said.
Juanita threw one to both of them. “You get the first ones. We launch this next week.”
“Good for you,” Lance said. “When did you do this?”
“The same time I worked on this,” She said as she reached behind her chair and she pulled out a large green bowl. Lance had seen this one before. It was a wedding present, made out of bamboo. It was usually holding gluten-free chips or nachos.
She passed the bowl to Shari and motioned with her chin. “Take one and pass it to Lancey.”
She smiled and winked at both of them.
Shari took the bowl, reached in and swirled her hand around. She plucked a note and was about to read it when Shari said, “Not yet. Now Lance gets to pick one.”
Lance was handed the bowl and he could see that each note was typed up professionally and on the back in silky, purple letters were the words: DARE: What’s a little desire between friends?
“Turn it over and read it,” Juanita said. “Shari first.”
Shari turned her card over and, by candle light, Lance saw his wife’s eyes widen. She laughed and covered her mouth.
“What?” Lance asked. “What is it?”
“Oh I can’t,” she said. “I can’t—I can’t!”
Lance looked at his wife. Then he looked at Juanita. “What is it?”
“So,” Juanita said. “What I’m hearing from you, my dear, is that you’re not going to answer the question or complete the dare?”
Shari shook her head. “I will not. Not now—not ever.”
She tucked the card back into the bowl and mixed it up. She covered her face with both hands and started laughing. “What is this game?”
“It’s called DARE,” Juanita said. “I invented it.”
“What!” Lance and Shari said together.
“Yup,” Juanita beamed, “and a board game company has decided to launch it. This is our prototype.”’
Lance and Shari’s jaws dropped.
“What?”
“That’s incredible!” Lance said.
“You’re amazing!” Shari echoed.
They both started clapping. They rose and hugged Juanita and she hugged them back gently. Lance noticed that she was protecting her chest. He closed his eyes and held her a little longer than usual. Dear Lord, he thought. Don’t let us lose you. Please, God.
He swallowed hard and looked down.
“Oh now,” Juanita said. “Your turn, Lance.”
Lance turned his card around and read aloud the words as he discovered them, “What is the one thing your lover has told you about yourself that turns them on that you had no idea before you met them?”
Lance sat down and sipped his water. He looked to his wife and repeated the question.
Shari beamed. “Answer please.”
“Well now,” Lance said. “I would have to say that I had no idea that my hands were sexy.”
Both women started laughing.
“I could have told you that,” Juanita said and she winked at Shari.
Lance realized that this was not news to either of them.
He reached out and kissed Shari. “Thank you, sweetie.”
“No, baby. Thank you! They are sexy hands—especially when you’re holding me after we make love.”
“Or when you’re cooking for us,” Juanita said and sipped her wine. She gave him a special smile.
Lance felt something excruciatingly exciting building in the room. It felt freeing and alive.
“What is this game?” Lance asked.
“Well,” Juanita said. “The gift of cancer is that you put things into perspective right away. You realize that all we have is right now. I decided that I wanted to create a board game or a card game that dared couples to risk their vulnerability. Sooner or later, we all forget about spinning the bottle as adults—and even when we’re in love. So I invented Dare and I’ve thought up about 200 questions.”
“Baby,” Lance looked to Shari. “What card did you get?”
“Darling,” she said coolly to him, “I may tell you later if you’re a good boy.” She then looked at Juanita. “You know what card I picked, don’t you?”
Juanita shrugged. “I think I do.”
“So you’re telling me that you’d do it?”
“Of course I would—if I was dared.”
“Where did you even think of that?”
Juanita blushed. “I have certain guy friends and there are certain forums where there are people who are into that.”
Forums? Lance thought. Yum yum. What has Juanita been up to at nights? he wondered.
“So you’d do it?” Shari asked. “You’d do it right now?”
“Yes!” Juanita yelled. “I would. I mean I’d love for five minutes to prepare myself and I’d love to choose the lighting, but I would.”
“What was the dare?” Lance asked as he reached into the basket and took a few cards. He turned them over.
Lance felt his breath catch with all of this. He also felt himself blush. His chest tightened in full arousal and he put the cards down. My God, he thought. What a treasure.
“Oh you just hold on,” Shari said and started to laugh. “So,” she levelled her eyes at Juanita. “You’d do it right now if I dared you.”
Juanita nodded. “I would.”
“Jesus,” Shari sat down and tucked her feet under Lance’s legs. “This woman is fearless.”
Everyone laughed. Lance agreed. He was tempted to keep reading the 80 or so cards all marked DARE but decided not to. He wanted to play it.
Lance blushed. “So this company bought the rights?”
“They did,” Juanita sipped her drink. “We go live next spring. They’re actually testing the game right now at all the sex conventions around North America.”
“Holy!” Lance said. “Congratulations.”
“I couldn’t help but notice, Lancey, that you’ve had a look at one, two, three, four cards,” Juanita said, “you have to answer all of them. If you don’t, we get to dare you to do whatever we want—and there are two of us.”
Lance’s eyes widened in complete embarrassment. “Wait. So that’s two dares for each one?”
Juanita nodded. “That’s if you don’t answer or do what the card demands.”
“Hold on,” Lance said, flustered and aroused all at once. “Easy now. Shari didn’t even do hers.”
“I know,” Juanita said. “And that’s why we get to dare her to do two things after we’re done.”
“Done what?” Lance thought. He realized that this was all a beautiful trap. The whole night had been the perfect web to get them all together. The songs they’d been asked to bring—he knew it was for them to play as they all made love together —or cuddled. He just knew it.
“Darlings,” Juanita said. “You two are going to conceive the most beautiful daughter. I’ve seen her in my dreams. I am carrying her and she’s fallen asleep between my breasts. In my dream—that’s the most curious thing of all—I still have my breasts. Your little girl—I can never see her face—is carrying little shoes and she’s sleeping. You’re walking beside me, holding hands. We’re by the ocean. I’m positive it’s Kits. My heart is singing and we’ve just come from the most fantastic meal together. We have our whole lives ahead of us raising your little girl and I’m the crazy auntie. I’ll always be her favourite.”
Lance listened and realized that both he and Shari were wiping the tears away from their eyes. Juanita continued and looked at them both. “I’m going to survive this. I know it. My dreams show me this and I believe them.”
“Amen,” Shari said softly. “Yes.”
“And I want to know which card you put back, Darling, and, Lancey, which cards you’ve just read,” Juanita said, and they all started laughing.
Where will I kiss you next? Lance thought. What’s a little desire between friends? “Wait,” he said. “What’s the time limit for any of these?”
“Here’s the magic,” Juanita said and leaned forward. “They’re up when one of you says they’re up.”
“You sexual goddess,” Shari said as she rose to hug Juanita. They embraced and were laugh-crying. “Thank you for telling us about your dream. It’s beautiful.”
“What’s beautiful,” she said, “is what I’m about to dare you to do.” She looked at Lance. “Lancey, do you have a dare for your wife?”
“Oh yes, Lancey,” Shari said. “You know I never back down.”
That was true: he had married a warrior woman who loved a challenge.
Lance realized that he had a goofy grin on his face. He beamed. The night was still young. They were hot from the beach, fed on a supper they’d prepared together. They were under Juanita’s star blanket and he wasn’t necessarily sure he wanted to this to end.
He realized that he still had all four cards in his hand. The letters DARE caught the candlelight.
“Lance,” Juanita looked at him coolly. “Do you want to play?”
“Diplomatic immunity,” Shari said and hugged Juanita gently.
“Oh, Sister,” Juanita started laughing. “After I’m done daring you what I’ve always wanted to, there won’t be any immunity for anyone.”
Lance shivered. He felt the eyes of the two women he loved most in the world watching him.
DARE.
He felt the hottest blood inside of him bloom under his skin.
He looked at all four of the cards in his hands.
And then he turned them over.