Awaenings

We drove southwest along the Caloosahatchee River until we reached the Cape Coral Bridge. After crossing the river we turned left. The Polynesian Lounge was in the next block.

Maureen said, "There it is up ahead."

"I see it." I answered.

From the outside The Polynesian Lounge was a typical Florida beach community restaurant bar. Cream colored stucco trimmed with dark stained wood beams and decorated with neon beer signs, it could have easily been called The Pelican's Roost, The Seven Seas Tavern or The Pirates Cove. I pulled into the parking lot. There was a driveway along the right side of the building. A sign said, "Additional parking in the rear." The front lot had at least 20 spaces. It was 9:15, seven of them were occupied.

I pulled into one of the empty spaces. As I shifted my Escape into park, I said, "It must be a quiet night."

Maureen said, "The dinner hour is ending and it's a week night."

I shut off the engine, took the keys out of the ignition and looked at Maureen. "Last chance to back out."

"I have to admit that I'm a little nervous."

"We could just go inside and have a drink."

"No, we're here for a reason. I may be nervous, but I don't want to chicken out, not now, not when we're this close."

"Okay, that means you have to go in first."

"I know and it's time." Maureen stared straight ahead. After a moment she took a deep breath and said, "Okay, here goes. See you inside." She grabbed her purse, opened the car door, stepped out, walked resolutely to the front door of the bar and went inside.

I watched the time on my cell phone. After five minutes I followed her into the bar.

The Polynesian Lounge was dark, darker than I'd expected. The bar, the floor and the tables were all made from rough hewn lumber stained chocolate brown. The walls were decorated with more neon beer signs, Polynesian carvings and colorful posters of South Pacific Island scenery. The bar was on my right. There was a small dance floor on my left. A dozen tables with matching captains chairs occupied the space between the bar and the dance floor.

I glanced around the room. Four of the tables were occupied by couples sitting next to each other sipping cocktails while they flirted in hushed voices. Against the wall, a classic mid century juke box was playing Frank Sinatra's ballad, "Strangers In The Night". Two couples were on the dance floor, both tightly clinched as they slowly moved to the strains of the music.

There were eight bar stools. Only one of them was occupied. The sole occupant was an attractive red head in her early thirties. She was sitting at one end of the bar sipping a glass of white wine. Reclining on her stool, her back resting against the bar, she was casually watching the other patrons.

Maureen was seated at one of the tables sipping a glass of red wine while she chatted with a handsome dark haired man in his mid thirties. Fit and well tanned, he was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts and sandals.

I smiled as I sat down on one of the empty bar stools. Maureen's suitor didn't believe in wasting time. He must have pounced the moment he saw her. I was also pleased to see that he appeared to be exactly the man Maureen had hoped she'd meet.

As soon as I was settled, the bartender walked over and asked, "What can I get you?"

Quickly refocusing my attention, I answered, "A bottle of Heineken."

A moment later he set a bottle of Heineken and an empty glass on the bar. I handed him a twenty dollar bill. He went to the cash register, returned with my change and laid it on the bar next to the empty glass.

I neatly arranged the silver on top of the bills and poured half of the beer into the glass. After taking a sip I turned my attention back to Maureen and her suitor. A surge of excitement rippled through me as I realized that our plan for the evening was actually occurring.

I watched. The dark haired man had his chair pulled up next to Maureen's. He was whispering to her. She was giggling. Another surge of excitement, this one much more intense, rippled through me as I imagined watching Jeanne in this exact same situation.

"You're five minutes late."

I turned. The young red head who'd been sitting at the end of the bar was now perched on the stool next to mine.

"I don't understand."

"She came in five minutes ago. If you'd gotten here earlier that could be you sitting at her table instead of him."

"I see."

"Isn't that why you're here?"

"Maybe I just came in for a beer?"

She laughed. "Nobody comes to the Polynesian Lounge for just a beer."

"Why do you say that?"

"This bar has a reputation."

"Really?"

"Are you putting me on?"

"That would be rude. I don't even know you."

"You are putting me on, aren't you. Why don't you try hitting on me?"

"Would it do me any good? I'm much older than you are."

"It might."

"Now you're toying with me."

"I'm not toying with you and I'm not a pro either."

"I didn't think you were a pro."

She stared at me. After a moment she asked, "Out of curiosity, why don't you think I'm a pro. I mean I'm being pretty overt."

"Not really, you haven't actually propositioned me."

"Maybe I'm making sure you're not a cop."

"Possibly, but if that's the case you haven't done a very good job of trying to find out. You have yet to ask me where I'm from or why I'm here. All you've done is tell me that I missed my opportunity with that women over there by five minutes. That's an unorthodox approach for a pro."

"Maybe I was trying to be subtle."

"Okay, but there's another reason I don't believe you're a pro."

"Tell me."

"You're wearing a wedding ring."

"Maybe I'm a married pro."

"I don't think so."

"Have you ever even met a pro?"

"Actually I spent November and most of December living with two professionals."

"What?"

"It's a long story and frankly, right now I'm not particularly interested in telling it."

"I'd really like to hear it."

"We don't always get what we want."

"The Rolling Stones."

"What?"

"The Rolling Stones, they sang a song called, 'You Can't Always Get What You Want.' I may be young but I'm not ignorant."

Smiling, I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you were ignorant. And yes, I know the song very well. I'm old."

"You're not all that old and frankly I'm finding you very interesting."

"And I'm certain you're very interesting too, but I'm sorry, tonight I'm not looking for companionship or even conversation."

"So why are you here?"

"I already told you, I wanted a beer."

"Right." Her tone dripped with disbelief.

"Believe me or don't believe me, that's your choice. It's what I'm telling you and it's all I'm telling you. Now, I don't mean to be rude, but I really would prefer to drink my beer in peace."

"You're asking me to leave you alone?"

"Yes."

"All right." The redhead stood up. It was clear that my aloof attitude had upset her. That made me feel bad. I didn't want to upset anyone, but I really did want to be left alone so I could watch Maureen and her new friend.

She started walking back to the bar stool she'd been occupying when I first saw her, but halfway there she stopped. For a moment she stood perfectly still and then she turned and stared at me. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. Several seconds passed. Finally she smiled and said, "I don't know how I missed it. You're with her, aren't you."

I closed my eyes. It was an involuntary act and it was my undoing. She was perceptive. That one little slip confirmed her suspicion. She grinned. "You are with her!"

I sighed.

Returning to me, she started laughing.

Knowing I was lost, I quietly said, "What's so funny?"

"The irony of the situation."

"The irony?"

Grinning, she said, "Yes, the irony. I'm with him. He's my husband."

Now it was my turn to stare. "Really?"

"It's the truth." She sat back down on the bar stool next to mine. Once she was settled she extended her hand. "I'm Ginger Tyler. That's my husband, Scott Fields."

As I shook Ginger's hand I said, "I'm Michael Nolan. You and your husband have different last names." Immediately regretting the comment, I said, "I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."

Ginger smiled. "Considering that this is the twenty-first century and I just admitted that I'm here watching my husband try to seduce another woman, I have to agree." But then she quickly added, "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you. Hell, Scotty will tell you that I'm notorious for speaking before I think."

"Thank you."

"It's okay, now back to our introductions. What's your wife's name?"

"Jeanne, but that's not her."

"What?"

"That's not my wife. That's a friend of mine, Maureen Styles."

"You're here watching a friend meet a guy."

Now completely on the defensive, I shrugged sheepishly.

Ginger pressed. "Do you and your friend do this very often?"

Still feeling sheepish, I answered, "No this is the first time."

"The first time?"

"That's right."

"Does your wife know what you're doing?"

"As a matter of fact, she does." For some reason that answer gave me confidence.

"Does she approve?"

"Yes she does."

"Why isn't she here with you?"

"She's in St. Paul."

"Minnesota?"

"Yes."

"And you're here with another woman." Ginger considered this. After a moment she asked, "Are you and your wife separated? Are you getting a divorce?"

Now smiling, I answered, "I suppose you could say that we are currently separated, but it's not a legal separation and we are definitely not getting a divorce."

"So why are you separated?"

"It's a long story, one I'm not ready to share at this time."

Nodding, Ginger said, "Okay, I understand. You just met me, but if we do end up getting to know each other well enough, I really would like to hear it."

"I will definitely tell you, now what about you and Scott? Is this something you do regularly?"

"Scotty likes to watch. Over time I've acquired the same taste."

Remembering how Jeanne had spent the previous night, I said, "I think I understand."

"Good, now I think it's time for us to join your friend and my husband at their table."

"Won't that spoil the game?"

"Maybe it will spoil this game, but it will open up the opportunity for countless other games that could be much more fun."

"Okay, but before we do that I have one very important question."

"Go ahead."

"Why us? You're an attractive couple. Maureen and I are at least twenty years older than the two of you."

"Scotty has always been attracted to older women." And then smiling, Ginger added, "And I've learned that older men are often quite adventurous."

Chuckling, I said, "You realize that's an enticing explanation."

"I was hoping it would be."

"Let's join your husband and my friend."

"I thought you'd never ask." Ginger stood up, retrieved her glass of wine from the spot where she'd been sitting, returned to me and grasped my hand. As she pulled me to my feet she said, "Grab your beer sweetie, this is going to be fun."

My surrender was complete. Ginger was in control. As she led me across the bar I felt like I was back in the care of Mel and Amy or Jeanne. It was a comfortable feeling. No, I'm not admitting to newly discovered submissive desires, it's simply that when one is trying new activities its comforting to be guided by an experienced practitioner. I was now convinced that Ginger was an experienced practitioner.

As we approached their table both Scott and Maureen looked up at us with puzzled expressions. Scott asked, "Ginger honey, what's going on?"

Ginger answered, "We thought we'd join you."

Still perplexed, Scott said, "I see."

"Relax Scotty, it's a change in the plan for the evening, but it will be fun. Let me introduce my friend. This is Michael. He's here with your friend Maureen" Ginger looked at Maureen. "Maureen, that is correct, isn't it?"

Her face suddenly pink with embarrassment, Maureen nodded. "Yes, that's right."

Realizing that Maureen had been placed in an uncomfortable position, I quickly interjected, "This is Ginger. Scott is her husband."

Maureen looked at Scott, then at Ginger and finally at me. She was clearly at a loss for words.

Ginger said, "Michael's right. Scotty is my husband. We often come here. Usually Scotty watches while I hook up with a guy, but occasionally we switch roles. I've learned that I enjoy watching too."

Maureen continued to look unsettled. I understood. Making this trip had required all the nerve she could muster, now she was being confronted with a situation that could potentially turn out to be much more emotionally demanding than she'd anticipated.

I was about to tell her that it would be okay if the four of us just had a drink together, but Ginger pressed. "Reeny..." She paused and then asked, "Would it be all right if I called you Reeny? I think it's such a sexy name." Without waiting for a response Ginger continued. "Reeny, it's clear to me that my husband finds you very attractive. He has a thing for mature women and I have to admit that I find your friend Michael equally attractive. Tonight I hope that we can at least get to know each other and if all goes well maybe we could go to our house and get to know each other even better."

Ginger, Scott and I all watched Maureen. Part of me wanted to come to her rescue, but another part of me understood that this was a decisive moment for her. She needed to settle this situation on her own.

Maureen stared at the table. The three of us watched her, all of us sensing that she had to have time to work this out for herself. After a moment she quietly said, "No I don't mind, I don't mind at all. In fact I'd like it if you called me Reeny. All my life I've been stodgy old Maureen. Reeny sounds like a woman who is adventurous, a woman who enjoys life. I want to be Reeny" Maureen looked up at us. She was smiling.

That made me smile.

Noticeably bolder, Maureen continued. "Yes Ginger, I'd very much like to get to know you and your husband better. I think I'd like to get to know you much better. And I agree, Michael is a very attractive man. He might be the most attractive man I've ever known. As to going to your house tonight..."

Ginger said, "That's only if..."

Holding up her hand in a stop gesture, Maureen continued, "No, I'd like to go. I'd like to go now. For years I've secretly dreamed of adventure. Suddenly it's staring me in the face. I am not going to pass it by." Turning to me she asked, "Michael, is that all right with you?"

"Well we haven't actually been invited yet."

Laughing, Ginger said, "Let me take care of that right now. Would the two of you like to join us at our house for a cocktail?"

Still looking at me, Maureen repeated, "Would that be all right Michael?"

"Yes Maureen, I think that would be very nice."

"Call me Reeny."

Grinning, I said, "Yes Reeny, I think it would be very nice."

"It's settled then, we're going to our house. Michael, I'll ride with..."

Scott interrupted. "Ginger honey, I think we should give our new friends an opportunity to finish their drinks."

"Scotty, Reeny and I are both drinking wine. The wine they serve here is only marginally better than apple cider vinegar. We have an outstanding selection of wine at home. Michael is drinking Heineken. You are too. You maintain an excellent selection of European beers in the bar refrigerator. I'm certain that Michael would enjoy sampling several of them."

Ginger looked at me. I shrugged.

Turning to Maureen, Scotty asked, "Are you ready to go?"

Maureen answered, "Yes I am." And then she smiled at me.

I smiled back. I understood. For years Maureen's husband had treated her like a doormat. Scott had the ability to make her feel like she mattered. It may have been a contrived ploy to get her into his bed. We both realized that, but at that moment Maureen wanted to feel like she mattered and she was already eager to share a bed with this handsome man, so contrived or not it made her happy. That was all I cared about.

Scott stood up and offered his hand to Maureen. "Would you ride with me?"

Taking Scott's hand, Maureen stood up and said, "Yes kind sir, I'd like that very much."

As they linked arms, Scott looked at his wife and said, "Ginger, we'll see you at the house."

Ginger answered, "Okay" And then turning to me she said, "My husband can be very smooth."

Laughing, I said, "I noticed."

"Don't worry, he's a kind man. He won't hurt her."

"I'm not worried. He can't hurt her. At least not right now."

"What do you mean?"

"At this point in her life all Maureen is looking for is unfettered sex. Isn't that exactly what your husband is offering?"

"Yes it is." Ginger smiled. "Michael, I think our meeting tonight was a stroke of luck."

"I hope you're right. If you are, my two friends in Tucson would call it serendipity."

"Serendipity?"

"Yes, serendipity. It means to accidentally stumble across wonderful treasures."

"I like that." Ginger wrapped her arm around my arm and hugged me. "Come on big guy, let's go find your car. We don't want to miss the show at my house."

Laughing, I said, "No, we definitely do not want to do that."

"And on the way I want to hear about these two friends in Tucson. Are they a couple of old buddies?"

"I haven't told you about them, have I?"

"We just met, so no you haven't. Although I have to admit that I'm beginning to feel like I've known you for a very long time."

"Me too."

"So tell me about your friends."

"Actually I did mention them earlier."

"You did?"

"Yes, I told you that I spent November and most of December living with two professionals."

Dropping my arm, Ginger stepped back and exclaimed, "Get out! That wasn't bull shit?"

"No, Amy and Mel are very real."

Grabbing my arm again, Ginger said, "Okay, it's time to spill. I want to hear every detail."

As soon as we were in my Escape I spilled. On the way to her house Ginger got all of the key details beginning with that fateful evening the previous August when Jeanne announced that she was going to start dating other men.

I was just telling her about meeting Maureen at Jimmy's Steakhouse when Ginger said, "That's our house ahead on the right. Park in the driveway behind Scotty's BMW."

It was dark, but as I pulled my Escape into the driveway the headlights washed across the front of the house. It was a two story white clapboard with a covered veranda, a classic 1920's southern home. The lawn was lushly planted with a variety of trees and flowering bushes. The house was lit. Scotty and Maureen were already inside.

I stopped. As I shifted the Escape into park, I said, "You have a beautiful home."

"Thank you, it has a little history."

"Really? Tell me."

"It was owned by Louie Vanelli. He was supposedly a lieutenant in the New Jersey Mafia during the 1920's. It's rumored that Al Capone had dinner here."

"Al Capone lived in Chicago."

Shrugging, Ginger said, "They were gangsters, they all hung out together."

"That makes sense. I frequently have dinner with other accountants."

"Sarcasm?"

"I'm an accountant. I'm not capable of sarcasm."

"More sarcasm?"

I winked at her.

Grinning, Ginger said, "Michael, you really are a delightful man."

I wiggled my eyebrows.

Ginger burst out laughing and then she leaned across the center consul of my Escape and hugged me. After a moment she kissed my cheek and said, "Let's go inside. We don't want to miss the show."

"I agree."

Ginger and I got out of the SUV and walked quickly up to the house. As we climbed the steps to the veranda I noticed an old fashioned porch swing to the left of the front door. It reminded me of the swing on Atticus, Scout and Jem's front porch in the movie, "To Kill a Mockingbird".