“If you can really handle it….” Carla paused. “I’m not sure I could.”
“I don’t actually know of many who can, but Jack and I seem to do okay.”
“You were telling me how this thing,” Carla waved her hand around the luxurious room, “got started.”
“Jack and I were having dinner with a business associate of his, TJ Sorenson of American Oil and Gas Products.” Ronnie closed her eyes. “It was Christmastime about three years ago. I remember that there were tiny trees and red candles on the tables.”
“What a meal,” Jack said, settling back with a cup of espresso. “I’ve never been here before but you can be sure I’ll come here again.”
“I discovered Chez Martin several months ago,” TJ said, “and I keep hoping that no one else will. I read the restaurant columns and am relieved every time I find other places discussed. So far no reviewer had found Chez Martin. I’m particularly glad I could share it with you. You’re two of my favorite people.” TJ Sorenson was about fifty, with a head full of white hair and a bushy white moustache, which he stroked with one index finger when he was thinking. An old-time wildcatter, TJ’s eyes were the color of cornflowers with deep lines at the corners from squinting in the bright sun for dozens of years. He was a handsome man, with the outdoor look of someone who spent a great deal of time in the sun, wind, and weather. He didn’t look old enough to have a grown son, a married daughter, and three grandchildren.
“Thanks so much, TJ,” Ronnie said. “I’m so full I could burst.” She took a sip of her white crème de menthe on the rocks and gazed at the two men, both looking mildly uncomfortable in double-breasted suits, white shirts, and ties. Although he looks great in his usual jeans and sweatshirt, I love how Jack looks in a suit, Ronnie thought. And the slight gray at the temples of his carefully combed dark brown hair makes him look more like a banker than an oil explorer.
“I’m glad you’re so satisfied, because I have an ulterior motive for inviting you tonight.” TJ stroked his moustache. “I would like to ask you a favor and I’m not entirely sure how to do it.”
“Just ask,” Jack said. “You’ve been so great to me for all these years, I’ll be happy to help if I can.”
“Well,” TJ said, “I need both of you to agree, although it’s really Ronnie’s favor.”
Ronnie’s head popped up, her blond hair brushing her shoulders. “Me?”
TJ sighed. “Let me explain. First of all, I hope you don’t mind that Jack has told me about your delightfully original relationship.”
“Of course not. Jack and I are not ashamed of our lifestyle.” Ronnie stroked Jack’s hand lovingly. “We love each other and have fun as well.” Jack winked one gray eye and nodded.
“You two seem to have figured out something that works for you and you know how much I like you both.”
Ronnie rested her elbows on the table and studied the older man. TJ, who had recently been promoted to executive vice president of American Oil, had been Jack’s first boss. The two men had hit it off almost immediately, and as TJ climbed the corporate ladder, Jack climbed with him. Several years earlier, when Jack formed his own geology consulting firm, TJ had given him moral support and had seen to it that American Oil put him on retainer. Jack and Ronnie owed him a lot.
In addition to their business relationship, the two men had become friends. In the early days, TJ and Jack had traveled together on oil drilling expeditions, often spending weeks at a time in the field, living in a tent, and actually wielding a pick and shovel. In the years since TJ had become office-bound, Jack and Ronnie had dined occasionally with TJ and his wife Alice, most recently one evening the previous summer on the Sorensons’ new forty-foot sailboat.
When TJ seemed at a loss as to how to continue, Ronnie said, “Whatever is bothering you can’t be that terrible. Why don’t you just come out with it?”
“Right.” He sipped his cognac. “It’s my son. You met Tim last summer on the boat. What was your impression of him, Ronnie? As a woman. And be honest.”
She remembered TJ’s son. He had been on his way somewhere but had paused for a moment to make small talk. She recalled an awkward young man who seemed uncomfortable with her. “He’s a nice-looking guy, as I remember,” she said, hedging. “How old is he now?”
“He’s twenty-four. Tell me what you think of him as a person.”
“I hardly spent any time with him,” Ronnie said. “But he was charming, seemed to know the right thing to say but I guess he seemed a bit distant, a bit difficult to get to know.”
“He’s shy with women because he’s had a few bad experiences. And now he’s much worse. He was engaged, you know.”
“No,” Ronnie said. “I didn’t know. You said was?”
“I did. The bitch did a number on him. I think she was more interested in my money than in Tim. Anyway, about a month ago, when he seemed to be losing interest, she lost her temper at our dinner table one evening. There were several other couples, their friends and ours, and Clarisse had been drinking. Something snapped, I’ve no idea what. But whatever caused it she read him out and, among other things, told him he was a lousy lover. I think her exact phrasing was that he couldn’t give a nymphomaniac an orgasm.”
“Oh shit,” Jack said. “He must have been devastated.”
“He was. Fortunately Tim and I have an honest relationship and we’ve talked at length since then. He doesn’t want anything to do with Clarisse, but he admits that she might have a point about his sexual prowess. He told me that he feels inadequate and awkward as a lover. I told him that good sex takes two and that maybe he and Clarisse just weren’t compatible, but he’s really down on himself. We talked about finding a prostitute to, you know, teach him about women and sex, but he didn’t want anything like that. Too impersonal, too clinical.”
“Am I starting to see a plan here?” Ronnie asked.
“I hope so,” TJ said. “I know and trust both of you and I need someone to teach Tim about women. Ronnie?”
“I’m flattered and I’d like to help. But I won’t do anything without his knowledge,” Ronnie said.
“Of course not.” He looked from Ronnie to Jack. “If you two agree, I’ll talk to him. I mentioned you recently and he remembers meeting you last summer. As a matter of fact, I think he was impressed, said you were a knockout, as I recall. I don’t know whether that’s the good news or the bad.”
“I think it would be wonderful for Tim,” Jack said, his charming grin revealing even, white teeth. “Ronnie’s just the right woman to teach a young man about love and sex. She’s terrific.” He squeezed his wife’s hand.
“So you’re both willing?” TJ said.
“If Tim wants to, I’m certainly willing,” Ronnie said.
Later that night, Ronnie and Jack lay in bed, naked, propped up on several pillows. “That’s quite an assignment,” Jack said, “teaching a young man about sex.”
“I know,” Ronnie said. “It’s a bit daunting.”
“Nonsense,” Jack said. He tangled his fingers in Ronnie’s hair. “Any man who looks at your full lips will want to kiss you.” He pressed his lips against hers. “He’ll want to use his tongue to play with yours.” He opened her mouth with his tongue and stroked the inside. “He’ll want to touch your face.” He ran the pads of his fingers over Ronnie’s forehead, cheeks, and nose. “And close your eyes with his lips.” He kissed her eyelids.
“Maybe you should teach him,” Ronnie said. “You do things so well.”
As his hands made her skin burn everywhere they touched, Jack said, his voice