“The best I ever had? Whew. That’s a tough question. Not that I have all that many to choose from.”
“Sure. Sure. Come on, fess up.”
“I suppose the best was years ago when I was a hairdresser and one of my co-workers brought in his sweet seventeen-year-old cousin who was visiting with him. He came in the salon every day for a week and just hung around. I’d catch him looking longingly at me, but he was so shy that he’d fumble around every time I talked to him. He was so cute and innocent that I just wanted to make him feel better.”
“So my co-worker told me his cousin was going to have his eighteenth birthday and I decided he was old enough to get a grown-up present.”
“I did. I asked my friend if I could have a key to his apartment, and around five thirty on his birthday I slipped under the covers.”
“Just like that? What happened?”
“I think you could say he was pleasantly surprised and rose to the occasion. He wasn’t quite sure what to do but he was a quick study. We spent a glorious morning together and by the time I’d left he’d learned pretty much everything he needed to know to get a head start with his sex life.”
“I wish I’d gotten a birthday present like that. Even now!”
They laughed in unison.
“So he learned enough to give him a head start. What about you?”
“I also learned a thing or two. Things like good deeds reward the giver. And, of course, as if we needed a reminder, young men are more energetic and grateful. Plus, they don’t fall asleep after they’ve come.”
“I hear you.”
“That’s my story. What’s yours? What’s the best sex you ever had?”
I wanted to hear that myself. I felt a bit awkward standing in the hotel check-in line behind these two middle-aged women as they reminisced about their sex lives. I don’t really consider myself overly voyeuristic, but this was hard to pass up.
“There’s one thing that comes to mind. If that’s the right organ.”
They giggled and continued, oblivious to my posed indifference.
“The best, and probably all around most romantic and sexy time, was this incredible fantasy that happened to me at a Club Med. You’ll never believe it because I don’t even believe it myself, but I swear it’s true.”
“I believe. Now tell me,” her friend said.
“You see, in order to believe this, you have to understand that being at that place put you in a state of perpetual arousal. It’s not like it is now. This was in the days when Club Med meant sex, sex, sex.”
This was one of the only times I was glad a line was moving slowly. However, I wanted her to hurry up before they got to the front. Fortunately, a lot of people were checking into the hotel for the conference so hearing the end of her story looked promising.
“I remember. So tell me already,” said her friend, nudging her, and I quietly agreed.
“One evening after a long day of tanning and drinking, I went for a walk by myself on the beach to watch the sunset. It was a lovely evening and a fog was starting to roll in. I was strolling along, trying to commune with nature. Remember how we used to do that?”
So do I, but that’s not why I’m eavesdropping.
“I was ambling along the water’s edge and this man came walking toward me. He sorta came out of the fog. I didn’t think much of it, but as we got closer it began to feel like one of those TV commercials. The nearer we got, the sexier I felt. As we approached each other everything seemed to move in slow motion. He seemed so statuesque and assured.”
“And,” her friend prompted as she paused to embrace the memory.
“And when we were at arm’s length we stood still and just looked into each other’s eyes. It seemed like forever. And then, very slowly, we started to kiss. I couldn’t believe it was happening. It was so picturesque and perfect and weird and sexy all at the same time.”
“You didn’t say anything? Not even hello?”
“We never said a word to each other. We just kissed, embraced, and then lay right down on the sand and made love. It was like that scene in From Here to Eternity. It was all too glorious …”
We each stood there quietly and pictured the empty beach and the lovers at sunset.
“I looked up as the stars were coming out and said to myself, ‘Now this is a vacation.’”
“And the strangest part was that after we’d finished, we slowly got dressed, kissed, and walked off without saying a word.”
“What? Come on, you didn’t even get his name or room number?”
“What for? The whole thing was complete as it was. To say anything would have spoiled it.”
I agreed though I didn’t say so. Although if it had been me, I’d have kicked myself later on for not getting her phone number.
I wondered if the week ahead was going to provide this kind of titillation.
Fortunately, it did. Otherwise the murders would have done me in.