Two Women Talking
By Merz
Kathy and Betty discuss philosophy and relationships


"That is absolutely untrue. I can think of several men I like. It's just that
there aren't many I respect particularly. Here's our stop."

"Isn't that the same thing? Don't forget your gym bag, Kathy."

"Not at all. It's just a question of standards. We hold women to a higher one
than men can measure up to, and you know it. Look Betty, you raised your two
brothers so naturally they are about as good in all important matters as men
are capable of being. They are honest and loving and fit and they can cook
well enough to feed themselves, although I doubt either has ever asked anyone
to exchange recipe ideas. But think about the various women at the gym you and
I don't bother to mix with.

Don't they have all those same qualities? As women they're a little short of
the mark because of being body snobs or being imbeciles or having terrible
taste in workout clothes, but if they were men they would be right at the top
of the heap. Imagine finding a man with glutes as hard as that Giselle, the
German woman with the horrible laugh. Or maybe you aren't aware of her bum,
but I certainly am.

Anyway, a man with that quality of rear view could be assured of having me
consistently working out at the station next door to him no matter what his
laugh sounds like, but with her we keep a room away. Curb."

"I do keep away because of the noise. I wasn't aware you might have any
regrets about it. How about that woman who works at the steel mill and comes
in after her shift to move more iron? Now that was one hard pair of biceps she
was showing off the other day. I wondered why you never invite her to work out
with us. Maybe she'll be here today. This is about her usual time. She felt
great and even if she smelled like sweat you can't complain about that in the
gym."

"Donna. She smells like that all the time, though. She came into the shop once
on her day off and Carmen made me work with her. I was careful to have her try
only things she was likely to purchase because I might have had to launder
them afterward before putting them back on the racks. She really is
phenomenal, but she has about the same density between her ears as she does on
those gorgeous arms. It isn't her level of education, it's just a lack of
curiosity or ability to reason. Even if she could read a book she wouldn't be
able to talk about it. So if she were a man you and I would be climbing all
over each other trying to cop a feel of those arms while she ripped a thick
Jane Austin novel in two. But she's a woman so we expect more. We expect women
to make better use of Jane Austin. Dustbin coming a foot to your left."

"I never realized what a snob you are. How is it you get along with Julie?
She's no Rhodes scholar but you and she seem pretty close, even though you say
you only talk with her by phone or when other people are around. Did you know
that the first few times we met she'd speak loudly to me, to be sure I could
hear her. At least she didn't talk more slowly as well, like I was retarded as
well as blind."

"Perfect example. And now she has stopped talking like that because she
learned it wasn't necessary. Unlike Donna, Julie is curious about people and
ideas and she is capable of learning. She asks questions when she encounters
something different from her experience.

That's exciting because she seems to be growing up right in front of us,
whereas men past about fourteen refuse to acknowledge they have room to grow
and learn. Instead they just get credentials and diplomas. Donna is as good as
a man; Julie is becoming as good as any woman we know. It isn't hard to decide
whom one would prefer to spend time with. Even though I do respect her married
status, dammit. Perhaps I will invite Donna for several drinks sometime and
make myself stupid enough to really enjoy the experience. Slamming bellies
with her could be quite an adventure if one didn't mind checking ones mind at
the door. Our best bet would be to start in a hot tub and work from there in
order to nip the odor problem. I can't quite figure a way to suggest that as a
first step, however. It usually comes later in an encounter."

" 'Slamming bellies' is a term for romance I don't seem to recall from the
poets I read in English lit."

"And perhaps Sappho missed it as well. But it's a metaphor there is no use
your pretending you can't relate to in detail. Still, perhaps a demonstration
would be in order as soon as we can arrange it. It's been weeks.

Anyway, as with a dog I can feel affection for a man and I have enjoyed
spending time with some of each, but that doesn't mean I necessarily want to
eat dinner across from either one. If I were sure it didn't have fleas I can
imagine happily waking up next to a nice dog, just as I have with a few men in
my time. Although I admit I've had more fun with the men and they with me than
could be the case with a dog."

"A few men?"

"Well, a few compared with all the men there are. Or even that I have met. Are
you being snide?"

"Never, or I'd mention there are laws against cruelty to animals that might
trip you up if you tried treating a dog the way you've treated some men in
bed. The fact they were enjoying themselves in the moment wouldn't protect
you."

"Oh, God. Back to slamming bellies are you? But thank you for not mentioning
that detail you just mentioned. It sounds like you're nudging me toward an
encounter with Donna because you suspect her body would be impervious to most
of what I might get up to, unless I introduced a sledgehammer into my foreplay
routine. Is it getting hot out here, or is it just me? Here's the gym
entrance."

"Just you, and just you taking care of the heat buildup if you don't make a
move on her quick. Actually I'm intrigued about how you'll handle a female
encounter that begins and ends at the same ethical plane you're complaining
about with men. As you said, you usually set higher standards for yourself as
well as the women you take up with. Twenty bucks says you won't pick her up
tonight."

"And it's you who has been talking me down from those standards. The part I
haven't figured out is if you knew Donna would be walking around the counter
just now, or if the Fates are up to their weaving. In either case, you're on."

"The truth? She has a different scent before and after her workouts. When we
stepped into the stairway I smelled that she had been there after lifting, and
since we didn't pass her I figured she had gone back up to the locker room for
something."

"Oh hi, Donna, I'm glad I ran into you. You work with such heavy weights, you
may have experience with muscle strains and could give me some help. My
shoulder here has been aching since yesterday's session. I see you're through
with your lifting and might be headed home, but if you could just join me in
the showers for a quick look, I would be most grateful. You might have some
advice or could give it a bit of a rub under the hot water and get the kink
out. I'd buy you a drink afterward for your trouble. Betty, could you let me
have a twenty for the evening? Perhaps we could make that two drinks."

"I can't believe you. Let me check my wallet. I suppose this means I'm working
out alone this evening? So sorry to hear about your shoulder. It must have
started acting up quite suddenly. Give me a call when you get a chance.

I'm sure we'll have lots to talk about. Donna, I'm Betty. I don't think we've
ever been formally introduced. I hope you can do something for Kathy. The poor
thing was also talking earlier about itches and some sort of belly treatment
that you might help her with. See you both later. This is a twenty isn't it?"

"Nice to meet you. I've seen you here a few times. You look like you know what
you're doing, but if you ever need any tips just let me know. As maybe you can
tell from these bad girls I'm around here most evenings and they love lifting
the big iron."

"Donna, she can't see you flexing for her. Perhaps you and I had best go to
the shower and you can give me a closer look. Then I'll describe for her
later."

* * * *

"Hi Kathy, it's Betty. I have to hear the details of your conquest before you
go to work."

"Work? I'm still in bed trying to recover a bit before heading out. It's been
a long night and several showers. But all right. I've never asked: how well
can you distinguish different sorts of wood?"

"Not very. Apparently a lot depends on their colors, but if they're unpainted
some have distinct smells I recognize. And before they're painted or varnished
or whatever there are different grains, but I can't tell one from another.
Mostly I just know about heavy, hard woods and lighter softer wood like pine.
Why?"

"How about mahogany? Do you know that one?"

"Heavy and hard. But so is oak. Now what fascinates you about wood all of a
sudden?"

"Donna. Definitely mahogany. Similar color, heavy, hard, very solid, distinct
odor. And you know how some men have names for their penises? Donna has named
her biceps. The right one is Rosie and the left is Babe. I don't know about
other body parts, but she is very proud of those two children. She talks to
them."

"This is all a lot more than I wanted to know. Men name their penises?"

"You haven't encountered that? You lead a charmed life. My evening with Donna
was ghastly. She makes me crave a man again, preferably one who is not so
over-developed that he substitutes muscles for personality. Has Julie ever
mentioned her notion about having built herself up so she can feel like she
wears a suit of armor? That's Donna as well, except I couldn't find anyone
living inside her shell.

With Julie one senses a frightened child in there mustering all her courage
just to face the ordinary chores of daily living, and relying on her physical
development to get through. With Donna there didn't seem to be anyone inside
needing protection, and no point in having all that beef except to build more
of it. In fact it's more like she exists outside her body and was as much a
spectator of it as I was. We did go out for drinks after she attended to my
poor shoulder, by which time I needed two glasses just to make my brain cells
stop complaining about their neglect."

"And let me guess. You somehow ended up at her place?"

"Well, I confess I hadn't thought that far ahead before you thrust me into her
clutches. Stop laughing. My place wasn't ready for company - stop laughing;
sometimes it is if I have enough notice - and she seemed as open to extending
our evening as I. So she first offered me a ride home and then came up with
the modern Amazon's equivalent of suggesting I might wish to see her etchings.
I forget her actual words but it went something like, 'How'd you like to stop
by my place and check out the latest Flex. The centerfold is pretty hot.' I
just had to see if she really owned any printed material. I'm still wondering.
By then she should have realized no pretense was needed, but seemed to have a
script she has to stick with when making connections."

"So far it sounds like your idea of how the evening should go and hers were
pretty close. Where does the ghastly come in?"

"From the start, if I'd been paying attention to the little voice whispering
in my ear. As you may have suspected, I harbored some dishonorable intentions
- there's that laugh again - and I was deliberately avoiding subtlety to help
her comprehend. But despite our little excursion to the shower, which ought to
have been sufficient hint for anyone, she insisted on creeping up on me,
trying to pique my interest in her while we had our drinks. She'd bump or rub
against me, she'd flex for no reason, she undid a couple buttons to show her
pecs. As soon as I had her cleaned up and a couple drinks under my belt I
wanted the main event but had to wait patiently through my seduction."

"You poor thing. And was her mating dance a fox trot or a waltz?"

"That's the thing. In a proper seduction one is courted, flattered, played to.
In other words, danced WITH. Donna had no concept of interests other than
hers. And hers were all focused on her physique. So she teased me with that
for a while, then at some point decided we were ready to take a closer look.
It felt like she was laying out snapshots from her holiday at the seashore,
with us sitting side by side observing. 'So Kathy, you ever seen arms like
these? There's a tape measure here if you'd like to measure. Want to guess
what they can curl?' 'They,' not 'I'. Quite off-putting."

"Whereas you were waiting for her to ask to see yours in return, or maybe
compliment you on your tight belly before you two started slamming?"

"Whereas I was hoping for some sharing rather than a floor show. You know,
such as arm wrestling so she can at least let me lose and compliment me on a
good try, or an exchange of massages after our hard days at our respective
jobs. I had my bottle of baby oil ready against just such an eventuality, and
I had tucked my knickers into my gym bag for quicker action. Come on, you know
exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about. If you will recall the very first
time I visited you, you used a creative pretext that allowed me to look at you
undressing and dressing and for you to spend inordinate time feeling every
inch of my body, some parts repeatedly in different clothes. I may sometimes
appear superficial, but you can be positively transparent."

"You didn't bring me baby oil. And as I recall it was your suggestion to come
over to my apartment and check out my wardrobe. How were you going to check
much out without my getting dressed and undressed? And when you asked how I
liked things of mine you were trying on in different combinations, how did you
think I was going to make a judgment without touching you? And I distinctly
remember the first thing you asked my impression of, you had your bra on. Then
the next time you asked I found you'd removed it and asked several follow-up
questions so I'd have to check your chest a few more times. And your abs. Talk
about transparent!"

"Not transparent enough, evidently. I remember sleeping alone that night. But
how I did dream!"

"Well, you had been my younger brother's girlfriend. It was hard to believe
you were really making a pass at me. Before you change the subject completely,
that was it with Donna? She invited you in, you chatted about how strong she
is, you went home?"

"Well, very nearly. I really didn't want to go into this part. Once I start on
the rest I won't be able to stop. I'm not sure you would want to hear."

"You know I live vicariously through your tawdry adventures. I'm all ears."

"Don't say I didn't warn you. By this point she had casually removed most of
her clothing without giving me a sign or hint that I might be welcome to do
the same. What would ordinarily be quite provocative was simply peculiar,
almost macabre she was so emotionally detached from herself. So for some
reason I just asked if she had made the muscles or if the muscles had made
her. She stared at me for a full thirty seconds as if I had grown a second
head. She opened her mouth a couple of times without words making it out. Then
she burst into tears and fell at my feet. It was all the most extraordinary
display; certainly not like anything I had anticipated. I think I blew a fuse
by asking her to think."

"My God. Then what?"

"Well, there was only one thing to do. Mentally she was as alienated and
self-absorbed as a man so I had to behave even more like one myself to begin
putting her back on an even keel. I looked down at her and said, 'If you're so
proud of her, show me this Rosey of yours - good and hard.' She flexed her
right, I hitched up my skirt and straddled her upper arm as she knelt on the
floor and began galloping away. She was so shocked she left me to go at it for
a few moments before starting to put her arm down. I ordered her to keep it up
if she knew what was good for her and continued to climax. Quite invigorating
in a sick sort of way, actually, and I'm appalled I'm telling even you about
this. When I'd finished I stepped off, slapped her and directed her to lick
her arm clean. Which she did."

"In all this, did it occur to you she might just snap you in half for a little
exercise? She could have, you know."

"Desperate situations sometimes call for desperate action. It was a risk I was
willing to take for her sake. Sisterhood and all that."

"Such a martyr for the cause. And then?"

"I pinched her nipple quite hard, told her Rosey was a disappointment as I had
had to do all the work, and directed her to show me Babe and give a little
movement this time. Babe rose to the occasion on command - Donna is quite
symmetrical so the left arm is every bit as imposing as the right - and I
repeated my performance.

This time she was flexing and relaxing against me and it was all I could do to
avoid being bucked off. My God but the woman is strong! It felt as if I were
battering myself against a stone. At completion I stepped off again, a little
wobbly I'll admit, and demanded how she thought I had enjoyed it. Again, I saw
total vacancy sweep her face as she searched for an answer she didn't have. I
slapped her as hard as I could and told her it was her job to know about the
reactions of someone engaging in sex with any part of her. If she couldn't
tell by sound or sight or intuition she must ask. At this point it was all I
could do to keep myself from weeping for the poor cow. Imagine a woman putting
up with that sort of treatment, and worse, that I might treat a woman that
way. I'm shuddering just recalling it."

"I'm feeling kind of sick myself. This supposedly was all for her own good?"

"Absolutely. I certainly wasn't doing it for my health, but I had to soldier
on. A couple moments after the slap I saw anger finally take over in her,
thank God. Before she could decide the sequence in which she was going to
dismember me I kissed her, raised her back upright and made a show of licking
my juice off her left arm. Now she was utterly confused and mentally
hamstrung. I led her to her bedroom - she sleeps in a twin bed if you can
believe it -- and told her I was going to make love to her as we deserved. I
slipped off her last bits of clothing, stripped myself and gave her a thorough
going over. We may have bent her bed frame, but a woman of her size and power
needs something more substantial than that silly toy. It really was useless
for anything but sleeping. She ought to thank me for that as well. While
naturally she had the most amazing time of her life and found out the true
advantage of meeting someone with biceps that can flex as hard as her own if
not so large, she seemed astounded that I could recite to her the emotions she
was feeling at different points, ranging from ecstatic to heartbroken and back
again. I let her rest a while before commanding she be in charge for the
second hour, and what I expected. To the extent she has had sex at all it
seems to have been a particularly unimaginative, mechanical sort of thing so
when I specified first the tenderness of the fairies and then that she show me
just how many of those incredible muscles she could get into the act she
looked at me as if I was speaking Greek. Perhaps I was, in a way -- Sappho
again, and all that."

"Kathy, I have to ask you before you go any further. You do know what my
reaction to this whole story is, don't you? You can't think I want to hear a
single word of it?"

"I imagine you're going to ring off from me and go take a shower to feel clean
again. Then I imagine you're going to spend a few hours wondering if you can
ever bear to speak to me again, let alone touch me. But I tried to warn you.
And I want you to know I will be showering yet again myself and wondering what
answer you will come up with. Are the convents open to non-Catholics? I've
been thinking of taking myself out of circulation for a while. But perhaps
living close quartered with a repressed female population would be the most
dangerous thing I could do."

"Kathy, you're starting to rattle. Please just finish the story."

"Of course. Let's see, I directed her in how to go about pleasuring me and she
did eventually get into the spirit, thinking about my reactions at least as
much as about her own activity. And as I queried her at times about the
emotional response she was sensing from me, she did begin to tune out her own
inner churning to pick up my wavelength. I felt her tip into genuine fear when
at last she began to truly revel in what her body could accomplish when pitted
against another in such an intimate fashion. I'm quite bruised from her
experimenting and trying to determine just how much resistance I might be able
to offer when she let herself go. Before leaving I rummaged out a couple sizes
of carrots and a zucchini from her fridge and recommended some stretching and
strength building exercises for her to work on. She really does need to get
started with men and work her way up. They'll think she's something quite
special."

"So you had your happy ending. I expect now you can't wait to meet her at the
gym again for the instant replay."

"Are you insane? Of course I won't be seeing her again. I can't even go to the
gym in the evenings for at least the next six months lest I run into her. I'm
working out on the day shift now."

"Now I am lost. I thought this whole supposed ordeal was to get her up to your
sexual standards. Now you don't want her as a partner any more? This was all
just a one night stand? And you talk about men!"

"It was no such thing, although that may have been my original intention.
Starting from about five minutes after we reached her apartment when I got a
clear picture of Donna none of this was about me. That's what I've been
telling you. She remains a blockhead with nothing of interest to say, but now
she has some empathy taking root inside her. In effect I gave her a heart
transplant, donating a part of my own where she had none. She can't give it
back but if she got near me she is certain to try. One way or another she
would be groveling and trying to impress me rather than listening to herself.
That is not an appropriate position for women to be in and the opposite of
what I wish for Donna. She has to take future exploratory steps on her own,
create her own identity, rather than live someone else's example. She needs to
find a man she can dominate if she wishes, or cherish or submit to within
reason. She isn't ready yet to go up against a woman, but perhaps with time
and experience she can become her own person."

"Forget the shower, after I hang up I'm going to go lie down until my head
stops spinning. You sound completely sincere. You spent the evening with Donna
for her good rather than yours? You looked inside her and found she needed
help with her emotional development? You know that I don't really think you're
superficial in any way, but now I wonder if you aren't just a little
unbalanced. So what happens now?"

"The upshot is that I'm taking the day off from work. I called Carmen and
while she refused to listen to even a general outline of last night, she
volunteered her car and her two youngest children to go on a picnic with me to
Horseshoe Lake. She said it sounded as if I could do with the company of
people who knew as much and as little about life as was appropriate at their
ages. Her younger kids are still blessedly innocent but she suspects her
oldest, Fidel, knows more than Carmen might wish and he might try to learn
more from me. None of us needs that sort of encounter just now. I meant what I
said about the heart transplant thing. Spending time in the company of well
adjusted children will help restore the bit I gave away, get me back into the
game sooner when I'm ready. Perhaps you and I should plan dinner in about a
week to discuss this belly slamming notion you seemed so amused by. I expect
I'll spend several evenings just scrubbing my loft as part of my cleansing
ritual as well. I might get it to the level where I could invite you over for
inspection. Maybe for dinner in. Give me a call when you can bear the idea and
I'll let you know how I'm coming."

"I will call - in a few days. And you let me know if there's anything I can do
in the meantime. When I come for dinner I'll also bring some fresh vegetables
- none of those clammy cold things out of the refrigerator. Stretching and
strength work? I better bring a bottle of oil as well so you can share some of
those recipe ideas. Have fun at the lake."