HOUSE-SITTING She lies on her girlfriend's bed looking at the pictures in her girlfriend'shusband's Playboy. The big artificial breasts like glazed holiday breads onthe cover of Family Circle. It' s all the same: the body varnish thatglistens women and turkeys, that sells them. This is how she feels about itpolitically anyway--angry, threatened, misrepresented. But her clit beginsrising against her will, like a new tooth through resistant gum and she hatesher body for being aroused, her own skin soft and spread, a dull white finish,poultry before it's cooked, something no one would want to buy or eat. She looks at these airbrushed computerized pin-ups, fleshy robots, poutinglike she never sees anyone pout on the street. Even though they are all thesame, she likes some of them more than others, their ass cheeks smooth asmarbles, forgiving her for her own, lumpy as golf balls. She tries to imaginetheir personalities, maybe some are smart or funny or clumsy. She cannot quite dream she is one of them as she lies on those thick quilts,with her girlfriend's red high heels and her girlfriend's husband's denim workshirt. She cannot quite dream that she's lying above a caption for phone sex:I'm wet, I'm horny, give me a call. And she knows she couldn't enjoy touchingsuch rubbery slick skin which looks as though it would be cold andindifferent, like the pages of the magazine itself. What is the properresponse of a woman looking at Playboy? Why did she bring it with her to lieon the bed? Is her friend upset with her husband when he does? Why does herwhole body blush, her stomach warm--one mouth a little wet, the other a littledry. She hadn't looked at a magazine like this since sixth grade, for which anyonewould have forgiven her. But now, as a grown woman, why does she touch one ofher own breasts, losing, for just a second, her disappointment in its lack offirmness, still looking at the Bunnies--all cupcakes and maraschino cherries--stomachs as flat as Pop Tarts, their fingernails, little pink wings. Sheparts the hair that tangles over her vulva. Her orgasm is quick and salty,forgettable as fast food. What she does with the magazine is what she guessesany man does--put it back exactly where it was hidden, then sleep away theguilt, the shame |