Lucrezia Magazine

"Damn, she was hot!" said Jack, lying (having just got done laying) with his wife Dora in their king-sized circular bed. They were watching an episode of the Batman show from the 1960's for laughs.
"Who, Julie Newmar?" asked Dora, taking another big scoop from the pint of strawberry ice cream that rested on her naked belly. Jack noticed that beads of moisture from the container had dripped down and coalesced into a river that ran the short distance down to Dora's navel to form a small lake. He was thinking of crawling over and licking it dry before it flooded the valley below, but decided he'd better save his remaining strength for his tennis match later tonight with a friend.

"Well yeah, she was the best. But I also mean Catwoman in general," he responded, one eye still on her flooded navel. If he waited any longer he'd have to go down and save the valley itself. Just as he was pondering a heroic rescue, Dora reached down and wiped herself dry with a towel.
"You've got a thing for Catwoman?" she asked.
"Sure, why not? Sexiness, mystery, danger, conveyed mostly by Miss Newmar's sex appeal, but that incredibly tight yet flexible jumpsuit was a powerful ally."
"Huh. I never knew you were into that," she said.
"Oh yeah. I think I had my first sexual stirrings from seeing her, possibly this very episode, as a child of six or seven. I actually remember sitting on the dark olive green carpet in the living room, or more specifically, lying on my stomach, face held in my hands with my elbows propping me up. I also remember the episode in color, but that's not right because we only had a black and white TV back then. Maybe it's partly an imagined memory, but mostly I think it's real. I don't remember specific feelings or thoughts, I just know that I was mesmerized by her, that there were stirrings. Mind you, they were very, very distant stirrings. Probably I was thinking, "I wish she was my mommy!"
"Cute. I can imagine your tiny little penis having its first dim aspirations of an erection. And my, just look how you've both grown," she said, reaching under the cover.
"Baby, you know I'd like to show you just how much I've grown," he said, dodging her hand and leaping out of bed. "But I've got to save some strength for tonight. In fact, I better get up now and shower, get ready to go."
"Awww. Sure I can't persuade you?" she said, dipping her finger in some ice cream and rubbing it round her left nipple with a sharp intake of breath.
"La la la la la! I'm not watching, I'm not listening!" he yelled as he ran to the bathroom.
"Coward!" she cried.
"Bock bock bock bock!" he called from the bathroom as she heard the shower come on.
She stared back at Julie Newmar on the TV screen, sucking strawberry cream from her middle finger.
Catwoman, Huh?

***

There is a theory that if you sat a monkey at a typewriter and let him start banging away at the keys, given an almost infinite amount of time, he would eventually produce all the works of Shakespeare. You could posit a similar theory about restaurants in LA. Given time, a monkey (or slightly more evolved human) could create every possible and improbable culinary combination, and in the case of the restaurant where Dora waited tables, Le Tentacle, a monkey had. Le Tentacle was a French-Japanese restaurant that served a fusion of rich French gourmet fare and clean, delicate Japanese food. The menu was quite original with such things as the Garlic Butter Squid Roll and Duck Pate Hand Roll. What do you give people that have everything? A French-Japanese restaurant. Le Tentacle was a huge hit in LA.
Personally, Dora preferred more straightforward fare. She also would have preferred to work at starting her own jewelry or lingerie company or spend her time refinishing furniture, but until Jack started bringing in more money from his scripts and other writing, viva Le Tentacle! Fortunately, due to the class of clientele, her tips were quite good. The lunch rushes were difficult, but she enjoyed her co-workers, especially her friend Daniel, with whom she had a continual flirtation going on. Since the day she had started working there, he had half-jokingly made it his mission to convince her to sleep with him just once, even though he was openly and admittedly quite gay. When she had confronted him with this early on, he had this to say:
"Dora darling, you're so sexy and gorgeous that it just doesn't matter. I want you."
"You're sweet," Dora said with a laugh.
"I mean it. And anyway, you'll be helping me with my personal growth. My horoscope says that I should expand my horizons. I want to branch out. Become more than who I now am."
"By sleeping with me."
"Well, it's a start."
Daniel made work go faster. And the faster work went by, the faster Dora could return to her lovely Jack, her lovely apartment in the Hollywood Hills, her plans at starting her own business and…
"A big black parrot?" It was an ugly surprise to come home to at the end of a difficult workday. It appeared to be made of black wood, was approximately two feet tall, hideous and occupying the table against the right wall in the entryway just past the large wall mirror, which had previously showcased a lovely little art deco statue of a dancer. She stared in disbelief at the thing with her arms folded close to her for protection. It was like some kind of totem of feathery doom. Dora felt her gorge rise.
"Jack?" She called again, but heard no answer. Then she heard a meow at her feet and saw their little black kitten, Puck, staring up at her, sympathetically she thought.
"Yes I know sweetie, it's horrid," she said, frowning at the bird. Jack appeared from the balcony.
"Hey doll. How was your day?" he asked.
"It was fine. But that's changing. What, pray tell, is this fucking thing?" she asked, nodding at the bird without glancing at it.
"Oh that. I was wondering if you'd notice."
"You're kidding. How could I miss it? Where's the little dancer?" she asked, concerned.
"Oh, she's safe, don't worry. I put her in my work room for now."
Dora raised her eyebrows. "Go on."
"It's just temporary. I'm going to sell it," he said.
"Sell what?"
"The bird."
"Ok. I thought you meant the dancer for a second. You were going to have to find someone else to suck your cock tonight. Maybe for the whole week. Maybe the month."
"No, no. I know you love that statue. And I had a feeling you might not like the Canary."
"Might not like it? Jack, I think you know that two of my least favorite things are African Art and animal statues. This combines the two. You've outdone yourself."
"Hey, you like the Maltese Falcon. It's kind of like that," he said.
"No, it's not. The Maltese Falcon is cool. This is The Big Butt-Ugly Black Canary. Where'd you dig it up?" she asked.
"From that small gallery in Beverly Hills, you know that one run by the crazy little old Hungarian guy? It's authentic, I checked. It's quality black wood and came from West Africa."
"I don't care if it came from a pyramid on Mars. It's grotesque, it creeps me out and I want it gone."
"Ok, ok. I'm selling it quick as I can," he said, holding up his hands.
"How much was it?" she asked.
"A thousand."
"A thousand? For that?"
"It was a steal. He's just trying to get rid of everything. I've done my research. I can get twice that for it," he said.
"You'd better do," she said.
"Until then, let's just have something different to look at for a change."
"Jack…" she whined.
"C'mon, you know it's good to change things up. You'll appreciate the dancer more when she's back in her usual place."
"Mmmm. How long?" she asked.
"I can move it in, say, a week. Two at most."
"Two at most!?" she said.
"Come on Dora. It's not that long," he said, putting his arms around her.
She thought silently for a moment then smiled up at him.