54 SLIPPING AWAY | SUE FAGALDE LICK
“I only came to your side of the hot tub to get
away from the light in my eyes,” I confessed.
Fred laughed. “Suddenly, you were running all
the bases.” More laughter. “Then I come in here,
and the stuff is in my suitcase, and I’m looking
through everything for something slippery.”
“That’s funny.”
“It would have taken a hell of a lot of
ChapStick.”
We both laughed, the tension broken.
We held each other for a long time. Fred still
had a semi-erect penis waving around. We got
out of bed and searched our respective bathrooms
for a jar of petroleum jelly, which I knew I had
bought. We didn’t find it. I offered to do a blow
job.
“A w h a t? ”
My poor, innocent Fred. Not since the guy that
preceded Fred had I tried to make a man come
in my mouth. That was a long time ago, and that
guy’s penis was much smaller. At least Fred’s was
clean and smell-free, thanks to the hot tub. I got a
mouthful of bromine; God knows what that does.
But Fred was too self-conscious to come.
He volunteered to get down the suitcase.
intermission!
On the floor of the den, I unzipped zippers
until I found the plastic bag with the tube of K-Y.
Back in bed, I squeezed out a handful of the stuff,
greasing up both of us, and in he came. The entry
was all right; I even felt a glimmer of pleasure.
But as he pushed harder, I felt pain up past my
navel. Never mind. I’d heal later. Slowly but
surely, he was moving toward ejaculation.
“Oh, oh, oh!”
He came. Cue the “Hallelujah Chorus.”
“Did you come?” he asked.
“No.” I tried to keep the of course not tone out of
my voice.
We lay together a long time, our skin sticky
from sweat and K-Y, the dog snoring. Fred
explored my body with his hands, praising my
soft skin, my “mountains and valleys.” I felt
beautiful. I enjoyed his furry chest and muscular
arms. Under my roving hands, he felt handsome
and strong as ever.
It was nearly 11:30 before we got up to clean
ourselves, turn off the lights, and take our pills.
Fred still had a bit of action in his penis. Now Icould laugh and tell him, “Get that thing away
from me.” My vagina burned when I urinated. It
felt torn and bruised. Fred promised to be more
“attentive,” meaning to have sex more often.
I knew it was a promise he couldn’t keep, but
it was sweet, and we said so many I love yous, in
tears, in laughter, in gushes of love. This was the
man I had married, the love of my life, come back
from the dead for a couple of hours.
Was it the full moon? Was it watching the
family slides I had found in the back of the closet
that afternoon? Was it the steak salads we ate at
Flashbacks surrounded by tables full of travelers
with babies and small children? Was it seeing me
naked in the dusk?
Would it happen again?
I didn’t know. I knew my crotch hurt. I knew
hot flashes woke me up many times during the
night. I knew Fred talked in his sleep, something
about “not yet.” I knew I watched to make sure he
didn’t get lost on his way to the bathroom.
I knew he stood in my office doorway the next
morning, smiling at me, not leaving even though
I was writing, finally coming in for a kiss before
heading into the kitchen.
We joked about putting this event in the family
newsletter: “News flash! They finally had sex.” But
of course I couldn’t tell anyone except my shrink.
Poor Fred was so horny. Once he got going, he
was like a grabby teenager, trying to swallow my
breasts and get into my vagina as quickly as pos-
sible. I was so surprised I didn’t know what to do.
Was this a new phase? Was this a flickering
of old brain cells coming back to life? Should I
encourage it even if I never had an orgasm and his
plow of a penis kept tearing me up? Was it worth
it for the closeness and a moment of renewed self-
esteem for Fred? Yes. I would have sex with him
again, no matter how much it hurt, for as long as
he was able, but it wouldn’t be enough. The man I
loved would continue to disappear one brain cell
at a time.
When I came out to the kitchen, I found him
sitting at the table, trying to get his pills orga-
nized for the week. After helping him put the
right pills in the right boxes and turning on a TV
show for him to watch, I retired to the bathroom
to run a hot bath, into which I sank ever so
gingerly.