(Sorry, Boss darling, I know you’re not stupid. But I have more experience in being a woman than you have.)
(So you have, and you keep me straight, darling. But what’s this about Tom and Hugo?)
(Misdirection. I knew who was on call that night. So Fred and Anton picked me up and I was tempted to tell them—getting excited all the time, myself. Couldn’t. Would have spoiled it some for them, since men enjoy so much spreading a married woman without her husband knowing it—even sweet old Jake relished me more for that naughty reason. I always went along with this quirk because it gave me more control over a situation not easy to control once a man has had you. Gives you a lever. You might remember that, Joan.)
(I will. But I’ll need a husband to make use of it.)
(You’ll get us a husband, never fear, dear—I still think we ought to marry Jake. He’ll come around. But don’t hold out on him, Joan; Jake is not a man you can pressure that way.)
(Eunice, I won’t hold out on Jake one-half second. I’ve never had any respect for that female tactic and won’t use it now that I am female.)
(I have never used it, Boss, I’ve used almost every other female deception—but not that one. That one is whoring but not honest whoring. ‘Minds me. How do you feel about whores, Boss?)
(Me? Why, the way I feel about any professional who performs a personal service. Say a dentist, or a lawyer, or a nurse. If he’s honest, I respect him. If he is competent as well, my respect is limited only by his degree of competence. Why?)
(Have you ever patronized whores? Hired their services, I mean, not ‘patronize’ in the snooty sense.)
(If I give that a simple affirmative will you get on with your story? We’re already downtown, damn it.)
(Yes, sir. I mean, ‘Yes, twin sister you knocked-up virgin.’ Got home, went up the lift with them, was ‘surprised’ to find Joe not at home, found the dummy clock propped on the sink, hands set at midnight, and told them what it meant. That did it. Finis.)
(Hey!)
(What is there to tell? You already know what we did.)
Joan sighed. (That is the skimpiest account of a gang bang I ever heard in my long and evil life.)
(What? But it wasn’t a gang bang, Boss! Quit dragging your feet and come on into this century. A Troy is not a gang bang. Nor is it a frimp session, or needn’t be and this was not. A Troy is friendly and loving. They are both married and they treated me as sweetly as they would treat their wives—and I loved the way they treated me and loved both of them, quite a lot and still do, long before the evening was over . . . when up to then it had been just affectionate, sex-charged friendship. Boss, one of the regrets I have about being killed is that I was never able to offer them the second chance at me they had earned—and I had promised. Mmm…do you think you might make it up to them?)
(Huh? As you pointed out, I’m their boss; it wouldn’t be easy. And besides. . . well, hell, I’m scared. Two men?)
(You didn’t seem scared of Mac and Alec.)
(Not quite the same thing.)
(Nothing ever is, Boss—especially about sex. But I want to tell you this. A Troy—if it works right, and it can’t unless there is trust and respect all the way around—if it works, it is the nicest thing that can happen to a woman. Not just twice as nice because she gets twice as much of what she wants so badly. That’s not it; she might even get less than some rutty young stud, could manage alone. It’s the warm and friendly and loving and trusting aspect that makes it so good. Four times better, at least. Maybe eight. Oh, arithmetic can’t measure it. But, Joan darling—listen to me—until you have been in bed between two sweet and loving men, men who love each other almost as much or even more than they love you . . . with your head pillowed on both their arms and surrounded by their love—until that’s happened to you, you still have one virginity to go, and an important one. Darling, I was crying most of the time they were with me . . . cried again when I kissed them good-night…was still crying happy after they left. . . then jumped out of bed and rushed to unbolt the door when Joe got home a few minutes later—and blubbered all over him and took him straight to bed and told him all about it while he was being especially sweet to me.)