The Strippers ' Dressing Room We 'll call her Morissa , because that 's the name she chose to use when she danced . She was not very nervous , the first time she performed . She knew that she moved well , she knew that she was beautiful , and she was an exhibitionist by nature . Still , her illogical courage led her to make her living with her natural attributes . She began her career at ' Le Strip ' , in downtown Toronto . It was an upstairs theatre setting . Not a bar . In a bar , the girls were incidental to the drinks , and within reach of the drunks . The girls at ' Le Strip ' were on stage individually , in the spotlight all the time . They chose their own music , usually the latest hard rock . Morissa was different , and chose some swinging Frank Sinatra , and Count Basie music . One bad thing about ' Le Strip ' was the lack of a rear or stage entrance . It was above some stores on Yonge Street . A person , dancer or customer , had to mount the long , narrow staircase to the box office . The route to the dressing room led all the way across behind the seats . The dressing room was at the opposite end , and some men would not take a seat , but stand in the dim light at the back wall , so they could get a close look at the girls as they came and went . Morissa 's first task was to make the gauntlet run , from the top of the long stairway to the dressing room across the theatre . She kept her face away from the back wall of voyeurs and looked at the girl that was on the stage . She was just finishing her set , and removed her tiny pubic covering and strode around showing pubic hair . She strode back across the stage to the dressing room stage entrance and paused , turned to the audience , and spread her legs to reveal her vagina for several seconds before she darted into the dressing room . Two seconds later , Morissa entered the dressing room from the other door . The dancer that just left the stage was glistening with sweat . She picked up a white towel to wipe herself down and looked over at Morissa . " There ain 't no private parts here , honey . " She laughed and took a long toque on a thick joint . The marijuana fragrance flowed through the air . " No , honey , you can if you want to . This is a theatre , so showing your honeypot is legal , and we get a $ 25 bonus if we do it for a few seconds . They 'd jail you if you did it in a bar . " The black girl blew a cloud of fragrant smoke into the air and beckoned to Morissa . " She calls everybody Honey , " said a third girl . She was dressed and prepared to go on stage . She walked to the stage door , and when she heard her music come booming through the wall , she darted out the door and began her routine . Morissa dug into her bag and withdrew first her cosmetics . These she arrayed randomly on her counter space before the huge mirror . The mirror was surrounded with light bulbs . She chose her layers of costume , one by one . She put them on carefully . She had practiced several times , to be assured that she wouldn 't make a fool of herself in the spotlight . Morissa sat with the black girl , who still wore only her robe . It fell open , and that was ignored because it didn 't matter . Morissa learned that she was called Blue , and that she was transsexual . They passed a joint back and forth . Blue assured Morissa that the smoke would improve her routine , and she 'd enjoy it more . They heard a burst of applause as the dancer on stage finished her routine with a revealing spread that earned her $ 25 for 5 seconds of exposed vagina . Morissa prepared for her first performance . She was eager to see the smiling , eager faces in the audience , as they appreciated her body and her dancing . Of course , she planned to expose her vagina . She didn 't care about the $ 25 bonus . She enjoyed the rush of excitement she gets when she 's sexually bold , anywhere in her life . Her music began . Frank Sinatra sang , " You Make Me Feel So Young " . Morissa flung the stage door open and strode on her long legs into the spotlight at center stage . Desire At A Dinner Party The hostess was a former model and a friend of my wife 's . My wife was an art director and many of her friends and associates were models , photographers , designers and other assorted phonies . My wife , I learned too late , was the Queen Phoney over all other phonies . So we went to the dinner party at the interesting old home of the boring old model . I found out after I got there that the party was a bon voyage affair for a man who was moving to New York for an interesting job as a writer for a news magazine . His wife was to move with him of course . I looked across the table at Mrs . News Writer and was not able to stop looking at her . She was Israeli I was told . Her face was stunning , her complexion was smooth and tawny and something made me desire her . Her name is Rebekah . I hope you 've experienced that kind of thing so you 'll understand what happened to me . I looked into her eyes , dark and deep as an ocean . She spoke with a knowing smile , her voice low and throaty yet I could hear her in spite of the conversations going on around us . I didn 't notice if her husband noticed that his wife and I were flushed with unexpected and unwanted stimulation . " Arthur is leaving in two days , " she said . " I 'll stay here while he finds a home in New York . I 'll fly down and we 'll make the final choice together . Then I 'll come back here for a couple of weeks to arrange the rental of our home and moving of our belongings to the new place . " " Thank you , " she said . Conversations around the table had quieted as a next course of the meal was served . I was embarrassed to think that everyone had been listening to our conversation , although nothing out of line was said . I 'm sure the intellectual mating dance was obvious to all , with the possible exception of her husband . He seemed to be oblivious to the incredible hotness of his wife . " Where is your home here ? " I said . " Perhaps I 'd like to rent it from you when you 're ready to rent it . " My wife heard that and glared at me . I didn 't care . I 'd already decided I was done with her phoniness , and had to move on . She gave me her address and phone number and asked me to call first if I decided to look at the place so she could make it nice . I said I would , and we dropped the dance of seduction we 'd been doing below the surface . We returned to the general gab around the table while we enjoyed really excellent squab . The hostess graciously accepted my compliments on the meal . My wife later told me that the hostess hadn 't cooked it , just ordered it from a caterer . It came with the uniformed servant who had brought the courses to the table . Three days later I left the office at noon and drove to the address that Rebekah had given me . I called ahead from the car and she told me it would be convenient for her as well . She opened the door in a white terrycloth robe , a white towel wrapped around her head , drying the just washed hair . " I wanted to be nice and clean for you , " she said . " I have a feeling you 're a cunnilingus kind of man . " I was caught off guard and hesitated a moment before I replied . We enjoyed each other that way three or four afternoons each week , until she moved to New York . It had to end , so it was just as well . My wife and I split up as we would have anyway . I enjoy my freedom , but I miss Rebekah . THE SZENTENDRE TRAIN I took the Szentendre train twice each week . Early Monday mornings I stood at the station near my home and waited for the train to take me into Budapest , where I was an assistant professor of anatomy at Semmelweis University . Friday evenings I caught a train back to Szentendre . Between the two short train rides , my life was bland , grey , boring , and repetitive . In Szentendre I did my grocery shopping in the open market and prepared my meals for the week in the city . I was able to rent a cheaper flat in the city if I didn 't need cooking facilities . In Budapest I spent most of my time in my flat , and the rest of my time with my students . Last autumn I began to wonder about my life . I had been on vacation for the summer , and the return to the routine of city life and work was objectionable to me . Weekends at home were no better . Lonely days and nights , some so lonely I just sat around my house and cried for hours . It took all my will to go to the train station in Szentendre that first Monday morning in September . The usual scattering of people was there , waiting for the train to Budapest . I kept my eyes down as always . I was not in the mood for idle small talk . My spirit was in turmoil . I wanted to be left alone , to avoid social contact . At the same time , I wanted love , affection , attention , and sex . My husband … my former husband … was a dentist . He had run off with his office assistant three years before . I didn 't see it coming , and it put me into a deep depression . I wasn 't interested in anything , and I simply buried myself in my work . It had not always been so , but I was thirty - nine years old , living alone and longing for love . I would have settled for any old fool of a lover , just to be touched by a warm , tender hand again . I was grey . My hair , my complexion , and my spirit were all grey . I was a colourless lump of average looking , depressed , slightly overweight middle - aged female meat , and I felt like shit . The first week back at work was the usual mess of misunderstandings and scheduling conflicts and what have you . In spite of the lonely , empty house in Szentendre , I was looking forward to getting home to my garden and my sculpture studio . I like to make pottery or sculpt animals and human figures in clay . It 's just a hobby , but it was satisfying in a way , and helped to pass lonely hours . I worked in my garden during Saturday and Sunday mornings and in my studio on weekend afternoons and evenings . The first Friday night of the new semester , I boarded a later than usual train to Szentendre , because the hectic first week of school left me with some extra duties . Evening was settling in when I took my seat . The coach was empty except for a young man seated across the aisle from me . He looked at me and smiled with a slight tilt of his head . I averted my eyes and stared out the window at the passing scene that was fading in the descending evening light . I had never seen the young man before , and I wondered for a moment why he had smiled at me . I was one of the first passengers to leave the train . I hurried across the platform toward home , and didn 't see him disembark behind me . When I arrived at home , I made a small supper for myself and did a bit of housework before I went to sleep . Saturday morning , I busied myself with my garden and my studio . The weekend passed with the usual boring loneliness , and by Monday morning I was ready to return to the University . At least I had some human interaction at my job , even though it was only with the students in my anatomy classes or some professors in the lounge . As usual , I kept to myself on the platform , waiting for the commuter train to take me into the city . Most of the scattered people were reading newspapers or talking quietly to each other . I tilted my face up to the rising sun , closed my eyes , and let the warmth soothe me . I heard the train coming , and I felt the people around me moving about in preparation for its arrival . Someone stood next to me , almost brushing the sleeve of my coat , but I did not acknowledge it . The breeze from the moving train touched me , and I opened my eyes to climb aboard . I took a seat and looked up to see the same young man I had seen on the Friday evening ride home . He again smiled and nodded at me . I half - smiled in return , took some papers from my briefcase , and pretended to read them . I didn 't understand why the young man noticed me , and I dared not look at him long enough to see if I knew him . I doubted he was a student in one of my classes because I know each of them quite well . I had the impression from my quick glances that he was tall , broadly built , and with a good - looking square face . He had a high forehead under thick , blond hair that he wore tied low down on the back of his head in a long ponytail . The train rolled into the Budapest station . I did not hurry to leave my seat because I hoped to see the young man from a different angle , when he couldn 't see me staring . I pretended to be searching in my bag for something when he got up and went to the door . His legs were long and his ass was absolutely beautiful . The muscles in his thighs were tight in his jeans , stretching the denim . I could see on the back of his red windbreaker the symbol of the University of Fine Arts in downtown Budapest . He left the train and turned right toward the exit that leads to downtown transportation . I turned right toward Semmelweis University . Before I left the station I stopped and looked back , hoping to see the red jacket in the flowing crowd . I was stunned to see him standing in the middle of the people rushing this way and that all around him while he looked back at me . Flushed with embarrassment , I turned quickly and rushed up the stairs with the crowd and out onto the street above . The week dragged so slowly , I was insane with impatience for the Friday evening train to Szentendre , so I could see the young man again . By Wednesday afternoon I was beside myself . One of my students even asked if I was feeling well . I hadn 't realised that it showed . I was building up a volcano of curiosity , a lava flow of desire , a fantasy of romance that was ridiculous and I knew it . My mind was filled with visions of myself in my studio , the young man naked on a platform while I drew him and sculpted him and painted him . I saw myself walking around and around him , casually viewing his legs , his ass his arms and chest and finally , his cock , hanging like salami over his plump balls . Suddenly , in the middle of my final Wednesday class , I had a thought : maybe he didn 't take the train back and forth only on Fridays and Mondays . Maybe he took the train back and forth every day . It 's only a half - hour each way . I spent my weeknights in the city because the University provided a living allowance that almost covered it , and the house was just too lonely to live in alone all the time . At least I could occasionally enjoy a good restaurant meal , or a concert , or just walk anonymously among the strangers in the square . The final class ended , and I impulsively rushed to the train station and got there just in time to see the train boarding . I looked everywhere for the red jacket , but could not find it . I decided to board the train anyway , and go home for the evening . Maybe the young man had taken an earlier train on Wednesday . Maybe he would be on the Szentendre platform in the morning - with me also there … on the platform . I went up and down through every car on the ride home . I tried to pretend I wasn 't looking for anyone , in case I saw him . It was ridiculous of course , because what other reason could there be for a foolish old woman to be wandering up and down a whole train , if not looking for someone ? He was not there . I walked home on the dusty road , unlocked the front gate and carefully locked it behind me before I went up the stairs to the door and let myself into the house . I felt like a real idiot , going on like this about nothing . I was obviously emotionally screwed up , or I wouldn 't feel weak as a kitten just thinking about … who ? Thinking about this stranger who is young enough to be my child . I had to do something to keep busy or I 'd go crazy , so I got a bunch of vegetables out of the refrigerator and cut a slab of beef into cubes and made a pot of gulas . My Farmer 's Daughter Experience In 1951 , I was spending the summer at our family cottage on Georgian Bay . I was fourteen and my brothers were eight and four . Mom was with us all the time while Dad was in the city during the week , and came out on weekends . Occasionally he came out on Wednesdays , just to sleepover and drive back . It was two hours each way , but Dad loved to drive . He was very comfortable in his big , black , Buick Roadmaster . We had friends , the Smiths , who had a cottage nearby . They also had a hobby farm a few miles from our beachfront place . It was early July , and their hay crop had to be harvested before it was too late . Mr . Smith came over and asked if I 'd help get the crop in . In those days , hay wasn 't automatically scooped up and tied in neat bales or huge rolls . A horse pulled a large wagon out into the field that had been cut and dried . We pitchfork people moved along slowly , tossing the forks full of golden stalks of hay up onto the wagon . Two guys were up on the wagon , catching the forks full from us and building a haystack under themselves . They were the sons of the farmer that worked the farm for the Smiths . They had given me work gloves , but I managed to raise a couple of callouses anyway . Around midday , the farmer 's daughter brought sandwiches , coffee and water for the crew . She was driving a pickup truck to bring the lunch , and she parked it in the shade of poplar trees at the edge of the field . The farmer 's daughter was named Cloe , and she was sixteen years old . She sat and ate with me , and talked about her life on the farm . After lunch , she decided to stay and help toss hay up onto the wagon . The sun was hot , the air was humid , and the sounds of the millions of insects filled the air with clicks and calls and chirps . Sweaty clothes clung to our bodies , and I couldn 't help glancing over at Cloe . The way her breasts pushed against the wet front of her shirt when she threw a fork of hay up was … nice to see . I 'm pretty sure she knew I was looking , and maybe she liked it . The sun was glowing bright orange over the western horizon , and the crew was preparing to take the wagonload in to the barn and store it in the loft with a conveyor belt thing that carried it up . Cloe tossed her pitchfork onto the hay on the wagon . She took my fork and tossed it up too . " Wanna see something ? " she said . Before I could answer , she grabbed my hand . I found myself stumbling across the field , trying to keep up with her . Cloe led me to a large bramble of raspberry bushes . " C ' mon , " she said , " Let 's go in . " I pulled back . " Follow me , Dopey , " she said . She ran around to the other side of the large bramble bush and disappeared . I followed cautiously and found myself looking at an opening in the thick foliage . It led to a foxhole kind of hollow surrounded with dense raspberry bushes . I went in . Cloe was lounging back on the dirt bank , plucking ripe raspberries from bushes around her and popping them into her mouth . I sat against the opposite dirt bank and looked at her . She glistened in the shadows , her face , hair , neck and chest shone with perspiration . " Good , eh ? " she said . I agreed with her . She put several raspberries into her mouth at once and chewed them . She laughed , and the red juice ran down her chin and dropped onto her wet chest where her blouse was open two buttons . I watched the juice trickle down her chest to disappear into her shirt . She was watching my face with a bemused grin . " Do you want to lick it off ? " she said . She began to undo another button . " We 'll go in a little while , " she said . She rose to her knees and removed her blouse . " My truck 's still here . " My Parents Didn 't Know Me They were good parents to my two younger brothers and me , but they didn 't know about a few important parts of parenting . Mom was a dedicated mother . She managed the house and kept it clean . She was a very good cook , she knitted beautiful garments for us , and she never wanted to do anything else . My brothers and I would tumble into the side door after frolicking in the snow . We 'd climb out of our wet coats and boots , mittens , hats and scarves and run into the kitchen for some of Mom 's unbelievable chocolate chip cookies and milk . While we were gorging like wild animals , Mom went to pick up all our wet , scattered clothes and sort them out to dry . She didn 't scowl . She didn 't say anything because she saw it as her profession to do those things , and we loved her for it . We weren 't being callous toward her , we were doing what we were expected to do . When I was a kid , and I got out of bed early in the morning to use the toilet , before I could get back to bed , I 'd find that Mom made the bed while I was in the bathroom . She liked doing that . Dad was a good earner . When I was born , they shared a small apartment with my mother 's parents . By the time I was 18 , my brothers and I lived in a luxurious home with two new cars in the garage . I also had a new sports car , and in turn , each of my brothers had sports cars . We also had a summer home where we each had our own powerboat . We had charge accounts for whatever we needed . So what 's my problem ? My parents didn 't have the background to understand a kid that wasn 't like all the other kids . My mother believed I lacked intelligence . She occasionally said things to me like : " Your friends are always the dumbest kids in school , like you are , " and " I worry that you won 't be smart enough to make a living . " I had to find the strength to survive that . With Dad , it was easier . He never touched me . He never put his arm around my shoulders . He never praised any good I did , and always expressed displeasure when I did something wrong . Never spoke to me , except for an occasional lecture about my behaviour , which was never very bad . I did art , I raced cars , I had adventures . Dad never mentioned anything to me , while also never touching me . Out of the confusion of living rich and unappreciated , I eventually became a writer and artist of sorts . I created , designed , and wrote commercials , and a TV series that aired for about 30 years . I watched the first episode with my mother . At the end , the credits listed me as creator and writer . My mother turned to me and said , " Who are you ? " Wealth is Overpriced Two small houses share a driveway that runs between them . It spreads out to two garages in the back , one behind each house . The neighbours are friendly enough to chat on their lawns , but not friendly enough to vacation together . Their character and ambitions were not harmonious , so their relationship was simply casual . The occupants of the house on the left were the Warrens , Clark and Marianne . Marianne worked at the county courthouse as a court stenographer . She was satisfied with the job , although it was often boring and never fulfilling . Clark was an insurance salesman at the same time as he was working toward real estate development . The family that lived in the house on the right was Milton and Honey Young with their 12 - year - old son , Adam , and their 14 - year - old daughter , Sylvia . Honey enjoyed staying at home , caring for the house and the family . Milton was a proud draftsman at the telephone company . He enjoyed his job at the big drawing board amid co - workers who had become friends . The regular hours and days off enabled the Youngs to schedule times when they could visit together , or chat around the dinner table . The family was peaceful and comfortable . The Warrens and the Youngs had been neighbours for about two years , when Clark Warren began to move ahead into real estate development . One of his life insurance clients was a developer . He agreed to accept Clark into a large suburban development he had just begun . In the cul - de - sac where five model homes were to be built , Clark Warren could own one . Clark 's model was a front - to - rear split level house with imitation brick on the exterior , and a roof of green shingles . During construction , Clark struggled to arrange his calls to insurance prospects so he could go by the development site to see how his house was coming along . One time , early in the construction , Clark was watching the walls begin to go up , and he noticed that something was wrong . He went to the project manager and asked to see the blueprint of his house . Sure enough , the sliding door that was to lead to the rear patio was instead facing the side of the garage of the next house . Clark 's response to this traumatic event led him to visit the site several times a week . He would walk around in the construction mess to check every detail against the plan . At the same time , he succeeded in selling three major industrial corporations massive policies . Clark Warren was on a roll . He drove himself on , starting his days early and ending them late . He became addicted to making deals . He made an arrangement with a bright young salesgirl to share his insurance clientele . She would take care of the day - to - day needs of the insurance office so Clark could put more energy into real estate development . During the same time that Clark Warren was wheeling , dealing , and acquiring a solid portfolio of stocks and properties , Milton and Honey Young were satisfied with their life . Their children are well behaved and disciplined , resignedly taking after school jobs and working toward scholarships . Milton was asked to step up from the drawing board and become the director of a new division based on computer design facilities . A nice increase in salary and a private office came with the position , so he accepted . Clark Warren , meanwhile , acquired a Mercedes Benz , and a BMW for his wife , Marianne . His real estate dealings had become large , and he was working sixteen hours a day - some days even longer . Marianne enjoyed the increased cash flow and the luxuries it bought , but rarely seeing Clark was becoming an irritant . She became friendly with a new judge named Oliver Kane . He was a young man , quite attractive , and divorced . They occasionally had lunch together , and on one occasion , after a gruelling day in the courtroom , they went to dinner before going home . Marianne tried to reach Clark with phone and text messages , but there was no response . After dinner , Marianne did not go home . She went instead to Judge Kane 's apartment . She did not get home until almost three in the morning . She was relieved and concerned that Clark was not there . She didn 't know that while she was with the young judge , Clark was with the young woman in his insurance office . Within weeks , each knew of the other 's indiscretion , and a few months later , they were divorced . The house was sold ; Marianne got to keep her BMW and half the money from the house sale . Clark was also to pay her a substantial alimony each month . He struggled to keep his cash flow healthy , living in a penthouse with a spendthrift girlfriend while driving an expensive car and making monthly payments to Marianne . A few years later , Clark Warren bumped into Milton Young on a downtown street . Milton observed that Clark had aged badly . Dark rings around his sunken eyes made him look ill . Clark noted that Milton had hardly changed . He looked fresh , and said he that he was happy with his family and still on the same job , although he rejected an offer to go into management . Clark asked why . The Chinese Lady Several times during a week , Reuben Fieldstone stopped in at the same little convenience store . The sign over the display window read : Star Shoppe . It was pretentious for the dark little storefront , squeezed between and beneath the commercial office buildings that enveloped it . It was directly on Reuben 's route from home to office and back . It was on the rush hour route , so he left for his office either after the morning rush slowed , and returned home before or after the evening rush . His days were pretty much his own , because his business was doing well . His studio was making garden characters , such as gnomes , toads , and mushrooms out of clay . The staff and manager are experienced and productive , and he was comfortable to leave them on their own . He just went to the office each day out of habit , and just to make sure all was well . A tiny , adorable , young Chinese woman ran the Star Shoppe . She was always behind the counter at the cash register with her arm around a very young infant that rested on her hip . She rang in the purchases and made change with her free hand . Often , Reuben would see her husband at the back of the store , near the entrance to their living quarters . He looked to be too old for this petite young woman . He wore a permanent scowl and chain - smoked all the time . The woman was pleasant , but in her eyes , there were signs of burden . On his usual , boring drive to his boring office , Reuben Fieldstone stopped by the Star Shoppe for some mints . At the cash register were the lovely woman and her baby . The husband , muttering and apparently drunk , scowled unseeing from his bridge chair at the back of the store . The woman was suffering anxiety , and whispered , " My God will save me . I will continue , and I know my God will save me . " Immediately , Reuben scanned her small arms for bruises , and was relieved to see that there was none . " Do you want help ? " he whispered . She looked up into his eyes but said nothing . When she handed him his change , her fingertips lingered a moment on Reuben 's . She looked at the floor and back at her husband , but did not look at Reuben again . He left the store and was filled with pity . Two days later , Reuben was in the store to buy a magazine and chewing gum . While he paid , he whispered to the woman , " Do you want help to get away ? " She looked up into his eyes and made a barely visible nod of her head . " I will help you , " Reuben said . " Can you be outside with your baby at midnight ? " " Just bring what you need for the baby . You won 't need anything else , " Reuben said . " I will be at the curb , ready to go , at midnight tonight . If you can 't make it , we 'll do it tomorrow night or the next . You shouldn 't have to suffer punishment from a drunk . " Reuben Fieldstone was excited . He felt like he was in a spy adventure . He was aware that he could have a lot of trouble from the husband and the law , and he 'd deal with it when he had to . He spent the evening arranging his spare bedroom for his guest . He had been using it as a den , but it took little to make it a bedroom . He shelved all the books and magazines , and opened the sofa bed . He put fresh linen and blankets on it . A few minutes before midnight , Reuben got into his car and drove to his clandestine rendezvous . He felt anxiety and eagerness as he contemplated what he might do next , after he gets her to safety . As he approaced the Star Shoppe , he could see that the woman was not there . He circled the block , and when he came around , she was there with the baby and a plastic bag . He stopped in front of her and went around to open the back door . Without a word , she got into the car with the bag and the baby . Reuben noticed that she looked very small in the rear seat of the large car . He drove straight into his garage to avoid scrutiny . Again , neither of them spoke as he helped her out of the car with the baby , and took the bag from her . He led her through the door into the house . The woman caught her breath when she saw the kitchen , gleaming with white enamel and polished steel . The baby began to cry . Reuben led the way upstairs , showed her to her room , and left the bag on the bed .