gestured piteously toward his red, swollen cock, which waved in the air as if to rebuke me.
“ I do deny you, until you have given Clare up.” My cold speech was underlined with a strong intuition that my lover's welfare demanded the ultimate sacrifice, that I must separate myself from him beyond tonight.
“ To hell with you, vixen! I wish you good-night.”
He stood and pulled up his breeches from around his ankles. I could not help but giggle, but I was also flushed with renewed desire at the manly spectacle he made in the moonlight, with his broad, bare shoulders rippling and the fall leaves in his curly hair.
With a surly bow, my lover was gone, leaving me to scatter the ashes of my signal bonfire in a pensive mood. Much later, lying in my bed as the cocks began to crow, I thrashed restlessly under the cold sheets. I felt a shiver come over me.
I had another premonition—what for a human would be a flash of reason and a moment of clarity—warning me that this love affair was destined to end not in an eternal bonfire of bonded flesh, but rather a gravestone, cold and bleak as Hatter's Field.
T he premonition passed, and I recklessly loved on.
Chapter Eight
An Illuminating Interlude
December 21, 1977
Alta, Wyoming
“ Oooo, cookies.”
Chloe picks up a gooey macadamia nut confection baked in Annie Witherspoon's kiva oven. Earlier, her Native American housekeeper had silently entered the room, laid down a silver tray of baked goods, and quietly padded off in her beaded moccasins.
Munching on the cookie, Chloe sneaks a peek at her cousin's face. Since the tale began, Marlena has turned several shades of red, green, and white, like revolving lights on a Christmas tree. Now Marlena's face is dead white and she appears so astonished as to be wordless.
The effect of the storytelling on Marlena is mind-blowing, beginning with the mystifying but acute awareness of two distinct voices, speaking in alternating narratives. One voice is Chloe's and the other is the alien voice that spoke to her Sunday night.
“ Any questions?” Chloe asks demurely.
Marlena gapes vacantly. No, cousin, you have not gone mad . At last, Marlena manages to speak. “Er, does Harry know much about his grandfather?”
“ Oh, I think he has a good idea of the stock he comes from. Why do you ask?”
“ Well, I get the point that being a siren is hereditary. I am wondering if being a dick is hereditary as well.”
“ Actually, yes. But the grain runs deeper than family history. Of course, I'm speaking now as an evolutionary scientist, not as a feminist.”
“ I'm all ears.”
“ Putting aside what humans call 'morality,' recurring patterns in sexual behavior differ between the sexes. The difference can be explained by evolutionary design. Both sexes are adapted to maximize reproduction. A man can reproduce himself thousands of times in a year, a woman only once. He is wired to spread his seed far and wide.”
T hat does not mean it is okay for him to do it.
“ Certainly not. On the other side of the coin, because childbearing is so much more trouble for the woman, her selectivity is dictated by the evolutionary scheme of things as well as honored by the culture. Women are drawn to maximize the chances their line will survive. It is no accident when they select a man who is the leader of the pack.”
Choosy mothers choose Jif .
“ Exactly. That ad relies on a gender-specific, behavioral archetype. No matter what Cosmo tells a young woman, unconsciously she buys into the idea of saving her egg for the most vital sperm.”
“ What about ancestral lineage? Can previous family behavior get passed along?”
You bet it does.
“While my belief is controversial, I would argue it does. Carl Jung spoke of the collective unconscious. Some believe that tribal dreams, desires, and behaviors are carried forward on the DNA, just like physical characteristics.”
“ Are there exceptions to normal evolutionary
“ I do deny you, until you have given Clare up.” My cold speech was underlined with a strong intuition that my lover's welfare demanded the ultimate sacrifice, that I must separate myself from him beyond tonight.
“ To hell with you, vixen! I wish you good-night.”
He stood and pulled up his breeches from around his ankles. I could not help but giggle, but I was also flushed with renewed desire at the manly spectacle he made in the moonlight, with his broad, bare shoulders rippling and the fall leaves in his curly hair.
With a surly bow, my lover was gone, leaving me to scatter the ashes of my signal bonfire in a pensive mood. Much later, lying in my bed as the cocks began to crow, I thrashed restlessly under the cold sheets. I felt a shiver come over me.
I had another premonition—what for a human would be a flash of reason and a moment of clarity—warning me that this love affair was destined to end not in an eternal bonfire of bonded flesh, but rather a gravestone, cold and bleak as Hatter's Field.
T he premonition passed, and I recklessly loved on.
Chapter Eight
An Illuminating Interlude
December 21, 1977
Alta, Wyoming
“ Oooo, cookies.”
Chloe picks up a gooey macadamia nut confection baked in Annie Witherspoon's kiva oven. Earlier, her Native American housekeeper had silently entered the room, laid down a silver tray of baked goods, and quietly padded off in her beaded moccasins.
Munching on the cookie, Chloe sneaks a peek at her cousin's face. Since the tale began, Marlena has turned several shades of red, green, and white, like revolving lights on a Christmas tree. Now Marlena's face is dead white and she appears so astonished as to be wordless.
The effect of the storytelling on Marlena is mind-blowing, beginning with the mystifying but acute awareness of two distinct voices, speaking in alternating narratives. One voice is Chloe's and the other is the alien voice that spoke to her Sunday night.
“ Any questions?” Chloe asks demurely.
Marlena gapes vacantly. No, cousin, you have not gone mad . At last, Marlena manages to speak. “Er, does Harry know much about his grandfather?”
“ Oh, I think he has a good idea of the stock he comes from. Why do you ask?”
“ Well, I get the point that being a siren is hereditary. I am wondering if being a dick is hereditary as well.”
“ Actually, yes. But the grain runs deeper than family history. Of course, I'm speaking now as an evolutionary scientist, not as a feminist.”
“ I'm all ears.”
“ Putting aside what humans call 'morality,' recurring patterns in sexual behavior differ between the sexes. The difference can be explained by evolutionary design. Both sexes are adapted to maximize reproduction. A man can reproduce himself thousands of times in a year, a woman only once. He is wired to spread his seed far and wide.”
T hat does not mean it is okay for him to do it.
“ Certainly not. On the other side of the coin, because childbearing is so much more trouble for the woman, her selectivity is dictated by the evolutionary scheme of things as well as honored by the culture. Women are drawn to maximize the chances their line will survive. It is no accident when they select a man who is the leader of the pack.”
Choosy mothers choose Jif .
“ Exactly. That ad relies on a gender-specific, behavioral archetype. No matter what Cosmo tells a young woman, unconsciously she buys into the idea of saving her egg for the most vital sperm.”
“ What about ancestral lineage? Can previous family behavior get passed along?”
You bet it does.
“While my belief is controversial, I would argue it does. Carl Jung spoke of the collective unconscious. Some believe that tribal dreams, desires, and behaviors are carried forward on the DNA, just like physical characteristics.”
“ Are there exceptions to normal evolutionary
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