belly dancers perform this movement…”
Without thinking, Pagan interrupted him. “No, they don’t, Tony. Belly dancers don’t bump and grind, that’s far too crude a movement. They sort of … shimmy all over.”
Tony didn’t like being contradicted. “No girl gets to be the King’s favorite unless she can shake her ass, and if she won’t practice her exercises, she’s whipped by the chief mistress of the harem.”
Stubbornly, Pagan said, “I don’t know where you studied your Eastern philosophy, but you’ve got it wrong. There’s no such person as a chief mistress; a proper harem is run by the King’s mother and the Chief Eunuch and no wives would ever be beaten because Royal blood must never be spilled. They used to strangle naughty wives with silken bowstrings.”
Judy didn’t want Pagan to tease the not-overbright exercise instructor. “Okay, everybody, that’s enough,” she ordered. “Let’s switch to inner thigh exercises and stop this nonsense.”
The girls groaned and started spreading out on the floor.As they stretched out on foam mats, Judy muttered to Pagan, “If they’re not gay, they’re health food nuts, or Harvard Business School robots, or Eastern philosophy freaks. I sometimes think that Mark Scott is the only normal, good-looking guy in New York. And that’s not saying much!”
* * *
Later, in the changing room, Judy reprimanded Pagan. “Listen, Tony hasn’t had the benefit of your background and education, so it’s unkind to tease him. He may be only an exercise instructor, but he’s a damn good one and I don’t want to lose him.”
“He used to be only an exercise instructor.” Pagan wriggled out of the black leotard which made her legs look four inches longer and her hips two inches smaller. “Do you realize, Judy, that Tony’s turning into your shadow?”
“Maybe he’s a little overdevoted, but it’s because he’s been a garbage collector, a guard in a detention center, a subway cleaner. He’s merely grateful that he’s now working in an attractive, clean office among a lot of attractive, clean women who all appreciate him.” Judy carefully smoothed on her coffee-colored silk lace teddy. “And Tony’s very useful, very strong, very willing to do odd jobs for me that don’t exactly fit into anyone else’s job specifications. And he’s touchingly devoted to me, simply because I gave him this chance. In fact, he’s almost become…”
“…Your damned personal bodyguard,” snorted Pagan.
“Is that such a bad thing, considering the state of Manhattan today?” Judy checked herself in the mirror. “As a matter of fact, if he’s becoming anything, he’s becoming my driver. I never realized how useful a driver could be, until Tony came along.”
“They’re useful, but drivers can also be a royal pain in the ass,” said Pagan, wriggling into her sheer black tights. “They’re never there when you really want them, which is late evenings and the weekends; you always have to see they’re fed, and they’re often sulky. The only way to have really efficient transport is to have three drivers, each working an eight-hour shift. I must say, that would be heaven.”
Pagan paused, as she remembered what her grandfather had once told her, after reluctantly dismissing his driver for theft. Her grandfather had said that passengers often forgetto close the sliding glass panel between the front seat and the back and, consequently, a driver gets to know everything about his employer’s life, because the people riding in the back seat forget that the driver is a person, not an anonymous, automatic robot, not a piece of impersonal mechanism like a faucet. Pagan remembered her grandfather saying that a driver carried two dangerous weapons: his ears. “Be careful,” Pagan said to Judy.
* * *
Judy looked up from her laden desk, and jumped to her feet beaming with surprise. “Mark! I wasn’t expecting you until this evening. I’ve got a
Without thinking, Pagan interrupted him. “No, they don’t, Tony. Belly dancers don’t bump and grind, that’s far too crude a movement. They sort of … shimmy all over.”
Tony didn’t like being contradicted. “No girl gets to be the King’s favorite unless she can shake her ass, and if she won’t practice her exercises, she’s whipped by the chief mistress of the harem.”
Stubbornly, Pagan said, “I don’t know where you studied your Eastern philosophy, but you’ve got it wrong. There’s no such person as a chief mistress; a proper harem is run by the King’s mother and the Chief Eunuch and no wives would ever be beaten because Royal blood must never be spilled. They used to strangle naughty wives with silken bowstrings.”
Judy didn’t want Pagan to tease the not-overbright exercise instructor. “Okay, everybody, that’s enough,” she ordered. “Let’s switch to inner thigh exercises and stop this nonsense.”
The girls groaned and started spreading out on the floor.As they stretched out on foam mats, Judy muttered to Pagan, “If they’re not gay, they’re health food nuts, or Harvard Business School robots, or Eastern philosophy freaks. I sometimes think that Mark Scott is the only normal, good-looking guy in New York. And that’s not saying much!”
* * *
Later, in the changing room, Judy reprimanded Pagan. “Listen, Tony hasn’t had the benefit of your background and education, so it’s unkind to tease him. He may be only an exercise instructor, but he’s a damn good one and I don’t want to lose him.”
“He used to be only an exercise instructor.” Pagan wriggled out of the black leotard which made her legs look four inches longer and her hips two inches smaller. “Do you realize, Judy, that Tony’s turning into your shadow?”
“Maybe he’s a little overdevoted, but it’s because he’s been a garbage collector, a guard in a detention center, a subway cleaner. He’s merely grateful that he’s now working in an attractive, clean office among a lot of attractive, clean women who all appreciate him.” Judy carefully smoothed on her coffee-colored silk lace teddy. “And Tony’s very useful, very strong, very willing to do odd jobs for me that don’t exactly fit into anyone else’s job specifications. And he’s touchingly devoted to me, simply because I gave him this chance. In fact, he’s almost become…”
“…Your damned personal bodyguard,” snorted Pagan.
“Is that such a bad thing, considering the state of Manhattan today?” Judy checked herself in the mirror. “As a matter of fact, if he’s becoming anything, he’s becoming my driver. I never realized how useful a driver could be, until Tony came along.”
“They’re useful, but drivers can also be a royal pain in the ass,” said Pagan, wriggling into her sheer black tights. “They’re never there when you really want them, which is late evenings and the weekends; you always have to see they’re fed, and they’re often sulky. The only way to have really efficient transport is to have three drivers, each working an eight-hour shift. I must say, that would be heaven.”
Pagan paused, as she remembered what her grandfather had once told her, after reluctantly dismissing his driver for theft. Her grandfather had said that passengers often forgetto close the sliding glass panel between the front seat and the back and, consequently, a driver gets to know everything about his employer’s life, because the people riding in the back seat forget that the driver is a person, not an anonymous, automatic robot, not a piece of impersonal mechanism like a faucet. Pagan remembered her grandfather saying that a driver carried two dangerous weapons: his ears. “Be careful,” Pagan said to Judy.
* * *
Judy looked up from her laden desk, and jumped to her feet beaming with surprise. “Mark! I wasn’t expecting you until this evening. I’ve got a
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