I awoke with a headache which extended to my knees. Unable to face even the idea of solid food, I dragged my marginal self to work. It was another hellish day. I was looking forward to getting home to a soak in the tub and deep gulps of peaceful silence.
As soon as I entered the foyer, I knew something was horribly awry. There was a riot of unnaturally colored parasols drying just inside the door. Half a dozen colognes fought tooth and claw for dominion over my unhappy olfactory nerves. It made my eyes water. A cacophony of titters and chirps squeezed under the parlor door. I scuttled to the kitchen in blind panic. Darius was fixing tea in two batches; one batch of two cups, and another of SIX cups…
My perverse friend found some humor in my horrified expression as I made a quick calculation.
"Daroga, there are not six women in the parlor…are there?"
"Oh yes, five and Christine," he beamed.
"What in blazes are they doing there? Who admitted them? Why do you have that…inane grin on your face?"
"I think it's delightful, the sound of feminine voices and laughter. It brings the house to life."
"Next you'll be telling me you want children and puppies gamboling about."
"I am looking forward to being a doting uncle. You and Christine must get on with it."
"Ah, Darius, have you a little extra ground glass for the daroga's tea? What the devil are they doing?"
"I believe they're discussing the suffrage issue. Apparently, Christine put a little something on the notice board at the library, and what do you know but five women have already responded!"
"Five already, marvelous. Sweet suffering Christ, Reza!" I shouted. Wincing, I grabbed my poor head. "I think you've finally gone certifiable. You've got five marauding man-haters in your parlor, and my impressionable little Christine—"
"Who happens to be the ring leader…"
"Bite your tongue, Sir!"
"They don't look like man-haters, Erik, they're quite delightful. You don't like women very much, do you?"
"I like women every bit as much as the next man, but I'm not dotty about them like you are. I've a healthy respect for the amount of havoc they can wreak in a man's life—something you would do well to bear in mind before you admit a battalion again."
"You're handy enough with a saber, Erik. You'll protect us should the Amazons attack."
"I am going to have a bath. Darius, do not bother to rouse me for dinner until the house is clear. I'm going to have a little chat with Christine tonight and disabuse her of this…rabble-rousing, organizing crusade she thinks she's off on," I growled, draining my tea.
"Erik, you're still recovering from the last disabusing you attempted to give her! Don't you remember the bright lights and the loud horn as you lay tied to the tracks?"
"This Women's Rights craze has gone entirely too far. She'll be trading her skirts for trousers if this keeps up."
"I doubt the Comtesse would characterize it as a craze. She seems quite sincere."
"Right, and it's a fine way for her to fill her afternoons and amuse herself until I return home, but I'm damned if she's going to have them swarming all over our peaceful home and holding public rallies and god knows what else. It's scandalous, I won't stand for it."
I stomped up to the bath. Christine had brought an assortment of potions with which she'd hopelessly cluttered the bath. Most of them smelled like Malmaison in the spring, but one of the labels said something about 'relaxing and soothing'. I decided to toss a bit of the mysterious concoction into the steaming tub before I lowered my corpse into it. It smelled of lavender and was foamy. So long as no one invaded my privacy, all would be well. If I was seen, I would have to drown myself and my shame in lavender-scented bath water. It was actually quite pleasant. I can understand why the frivolous little creatures could become addicted to foamy, fragrant baths. One cannot, however, be addicted to such things as foamy, fragrant baths and expect to be permitted to vote and hold public office. I soaked, dozed, nursed my headache, and prepared my lecture for Christine.
A knock on the door.
"Darius, are they gone?"
"Erik? May I come in?"
"Christine? You most certainly may not come in!"
She came in anyway.
"Chris-TEEN! God's blood!"
"Oh, Erik, don't be silly, I'm not going to look at you. Besides, you're all covered up in—what is that?"
She approached the tub to sniff the foam. I screamed like a girl.
"Is that my lavender bath salts?"
"No! Christine, go away!"
She tossed a hand towel into the tub.
"Just cover yourself and stop fussing! Erik, I couldn't wait to tell you, I had the most wonderful day! Here, sit up, I'll scrub your back. I posted a little notice at the library, in case anyone else was interested in forming a women's studies group. Erik, sit up."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because as I recall, Comtesse, I was prohibited from touching your bottom last night. I won't have you touching mine, thank you very much."
"You were drunk as a lord, and I had quite enough of that in my lawful marriage bed, thank you. If you're sober, you can touch my bottom all you like. Anyway, I'm not after your skinny bottom, you silly boy; I'm just scrubbing your back. Backs get neglected, and it feels nice when they finally get scrubbed."
I was still back on the part about how I could touch her bottom all I liked if I was sober. I was sober right now. I was…several things…sober among them. Christine was determined to scrub my back, forcing me to lean forward.
"So when I went to the library, I found there were five names already! Well, I contacted them all and we had our first study group—here! Today!"
"Yes. I heard."
"Oh, you should have come in and met them, Erik, they're the most delightful women!" Christine was scrubbing away enthusiastically. First my back, then my neck, now one arm, now the other.
"Hmph."
"We're compiling an entire list of things we plan to explore: the vote, legal issues such as divorce and inheritance, equal rights in marriage, children, women working outside the home, health—"
"Christine, will you please stop?"
"You don't want to hear about this?" she asked, offended.
"No, I want you to stop scrubbing me."
"Oh. Oh. Sorry," she blushed and wandered over to the towel rack to dry her hands.
She squeaked when Darius knocked on the door.
"For god's sake, Christine, hush! That's all that nosy Persian needs, to learn that we're bathing together. Thank you, Darius, I'll be down directly," I called.
"You're such a prude, Erik. Shall I help you dry off?" she asked, snatching up all the towels on the rack.
"You wicked girl, leave me in peace. I'll see to you later," I threatened.
"Erik, you smell lovely," Reza smiled when I joined them downstairs.
"Thank you very much, but I didn't get all pretty for you."
"I'm crushed, but I guessed as much."
During dinner, Christine regaled us with more tales of her Women's Studies group.
"And what are you all planning to do with all this knowledge you accumulate, Christine? Is this simply for your self-edification, or…?" the daroga asked.
"We have to discuss that further," Christine replied. "We most definitely want to find a way to disseminate the information to as many women as possible. I think it would wonderful to begin a network of study groups, I would love to see women all over France learning all they can. We can't plan for where we want to go in the future if we're not well informed about exactly where we are now."
"Today France, tomorrow the world," I cracked.
"What does that mean?" Christine asked. "Oooh, frangipane tart!" Somehow, I couldn't feel too concerned about Women's Rights as long as Christine could be driven to raptures over dessert, but I still felt I wanted to clarify a few points with her.
"It means that I have no problem with you having your little ladies' club, but I do hope you're not going to turn into some strident Amazon; it's unlovely."
"Little ladies club? We're not playing cards or doing needlework, Erik. We're discussing ways to bring women up to equal citizenship with men. This is not a frivolous exercise. And how would I become a strident Amazon, just by asking for my due?"
"Oh, I do hope we don't have an encore of last night," my Persian friend worried. "I don't believe my poor old nerves can take it."
"Don't worry, Reza. I refuse to have another battle with Erik tonight. He smells much too pretty to argue with," Christine wrinkled her nose at me invitingly. "Will you excuse us please?"
"Of course."
Christine led me from the room like a day-old lamb as Reza smiled at us like a simpleton.
"What's going on here, precisely, Christine?" I asked.
"We're going upstairs to have a bit of privacy."
We kicked off our shoes and sat back on the bed together. She held my hand.
"You were quite drunk last night," she smiled.
"I'm sorry about that, Christine. I was talking with the daroga, and the drink got away from me. It's not a habit, I'm not a drunkard, Christine. If you're worried about it, I swear to you that's not the case, I swear it."
"I believe you, Erik, please don't worry about it. I know you're not a drunkard. You were rather adorable, actually. Do you remember?"
"I remember that you threatened me if I touched your bottom. "
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Oh, well then…you said the sweetest things to me."
"Really."
"Mm. You told me that the fragrance of my hair makes you drunk. You said my laughter is like chimes in spring breeze. You told me that you curl up and sleep with me sometimes, and that you have wonderful dreams about us. You said you wanted to touch me so much that your fingers burned, and that you had to run away because you wanted to kiss me all over."
"I didn't mean that…it was the cognac talking." My face was burning. Bad enough to be drunk, but to be stupidly, garrulously drunk was doubly humiliating.
"What didn't you mean? My hair doesn't make you drunk? My laughter—"
"No, no, I meant that…"
"What then, Erik?"
"I didn't mean the… uncouth things I said. I apologize."
"But, what if I didn't think it was uncouth?" She began kissing my fingertips. "You don't really want to kiss me all over?" Christine stretched out on the bed, tugging on my sleeve.
"Of course I want to kiss you all over…" I grumbled.
"You'd better make a start, then." She made me kiss her; she wouldn't let me go. "Your fingers don't really burn? Erik?"
"They do now," I admitted.
"I know a way to cool them," she offered. Her breath in my ear gave me an exquisite frisson. And Reza was wrong; she did bite. It was delightful. Christine guided my fingers to the uppermost button on her dress.
I was feeling tremendously confused, undeniably aroused, and exceedingly mistreated. I drew away and sat up.
"Now see here, Christine, if this is what equal rights for women is all about, I want no part of it. Why are you doing this to me?" I demanded mournfully.
"What do you mean?" the she-devil had a look on her face as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
"What do you mean, 'what do you mean'? Do you recall what you said the first day you came here, or did I imagine the entire episode?"
"I said a lot of things. I said I wanted to stay with you, that I was leaving my marriage…"
"Yes, and you said if you and I were married, it would be different between us…"
"Yes, I remember that. It is different, don't you agree? I'm so much happier here with you, Erik. Now won't you come back here?"
"You're deliberately missing the point, Christine," I accused. "I can't just play these cuddly games indefinitely. I would think with all your research, you'd have turned up something about how men and women are different that way."
"I know that, Erik. I know what you want."
"Oh, do you? Then you know I'm no better than your husband," I resigned myself to the inevitable.
"No you're not! Oh, Erik," she sighed, shaking her head. I slid to the edge of the bed.
"You're not running away again, are you? Erik? Don't!" Christine pulled me back and scrambled around so nimbly that she was sitting on me, holding me pinned before I realized what was happening.
"Christine…"
"I know you're an architect, and a draftsman, and you're good at things like maths…and I know you're not much about dresses…but do you think you could help me with these buttons?"
Big developments were occurring under Christine's skirts.
"Actually, I'm not sure I can, Darling…" I confessed miserably.
"Why?"
"Because my hands don't seem to be functioning too well just now."
"Poor Erik." She leaned forward and kissed me. Her chest feels very good against my chest. Her everything feels very good against my everything.
"Here, you just put your hands here…and here…like so. Mmmm. Do you like that, Erik? Do they feel as good to your hands as your hands feel to me?"
"Yes…quite good, but I'm beginning to feel a bit out of control, Christine," I worried.
"It's alright; we'll take it one step at a time. There's no rush, my love. I'll just take care of these buttons myself; you get acquainted with those…womanly things."