A Little Something Extra on the Side

Jack Blackstone was 31 years old. By his reckoning, he had been horny for 16 years. It wasn’t that he
had failed to have sex in the past 16 years. The problem was that sex failed to alleviate his horniness.
But that didn’t stop him from trying. So it was not unusual that he left his office late one afternoon
with the express purpose of feeding his libido.
In addition to being horny, Jack was one of those lawyers who was embarrassed by his profession. He
liked to tell people that the practice of law wasn’t his profession; it was just something he did to earn a
living. What he did not tell people was that pursuing women was his true profession. He pursued
women with more single-minded dedication than any lawyer ever pursued the law. He would let his
colleagues chase ambulances, Jack was more interested in chasing women. All kinds of women. Any
kind of woman. Of course he preferred tall, slim, beautiful women but if beautiful women were not
available (and they never were) he would settle for any type of woman. Fat women, ugly women,
married women, old women, stupid women, vulnerable women, defective women. If she had a vagina,
she was fair game for Jack.
Because it was December, the streets were crowded with Christmas shoppers. It was his least favourite
time of the year. Winter coats, Christmas parcels and time constraints all worked to conceal a woman’s
charms. Jack headed for Pandora’s Cup, his customary coffeeshop, where he hoped to find a weary
shopper letting down her guard. He knew what to look for. Jack believed that there were two kinds of
people in the world. Those people who were looking for something and those people who had found it.
People who had found it were never receptive to his advances.
Pandora’s was uncomfortably hot. Steam obscured every window and the heat forced everyone
entering the store to immediately shed his or her outer garments. The aroma of coffee mingled with the
smell of melting snow and damp overcoats. Jack scanned the room with a cup of decaf double double
in hand. As usual, most people seemed to have found what they were looking for, at least for the
duration of their stay at Pandora’s. People tend to travel in pairs and the majority of women drinking
coffee were actively engaged with their companion du jour. A few women were sitting by themselves.
But the expression on their faces and their body language let Jack know that they were alone without
being lonely.
After careful scrutiny of the prey being offered up before him, Jack found the day’s primary prospect.
She was a handsome woman, sitting by herself at a small table near the front of the store. She appeared
to be in her early sixties and carried herself with the grace and dignity of a woman who had once been
considered very beautiful. She was elegantly dressed and was surrounded by packages from some of
the city’s more exclusive stores. Her calm demeanor masked whatever emotions she might be
experiencing that day. But there was something in the way she looked out the foggy window, studying
the blurred images of the passing holiday shoppers, that made Jack think she was still looking for
something.
Jack took a deep breath and slipped into performance mode. “Hello, do you mind if I join you?” The
woman looked suspiciously at Jack. “Sometimes it’s nicer to drink coffee with a little company.” Jack
explained.
If she had had a little more street sense, she would have sent him away. But Jack’s business attire and
refined manner gave her a false sense of security. “Yes, please join me. A little company would be
nice.”
“Finished your Christmas shopping yet?”

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“Good heavens, no. I’ve only just begun.”
“What did you buy?”
“Some gifts for my granddaughter.”
Jack was too much a master of his craft to show any surprise. He continued without missing a beat. “I
imagine you’re tired of hearing people tell you that you look too young to have a grandchild.”
“I don’t hear it as often as I used to.”
“Now that’s surprising. How many grandchildren do you have?”
“Just the one.”
“Do you have any pictures?”
“You are an unusual young man. Most people run in terror when I reached for pictures of my
granddaughter.”
“I guess I’m not like most people.” There was a slight pause in the conversation as the woman reached
for her purse. “If you’re going to show me pictures, we might as well introduce ourselves. My name is
Jack Blackstone.” Jack extended his hand.
“I’m Ruth Elliot. This is my granddaughter Jennifer.”
“She’s a doll. How old is she?”
“She’s three. That’s her father, my son. And this . . .” She paused as she fumbled through her wallet
sized pictures. “This is my daughter, Leanne.” Although Ruth was somewhat naive in the ways of
men, she was savvy enough to detect that Jack was on the make. Her lack of experience with predators,
though, led her to misconstrue Jack’s target.
“She’s very beautiful, like her mother.”
Ruth shifted uncomfortably and changed the topic.
“What do you for a living?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“Really, my husband is a judge. Harold Elliot. Do you know him?”
“I’m afraid I don’t. I don’t usually go before a judge. I’m not that kind of lawyer.”
“What kind of lawyer are you?”
“The kind that lives off the scraps left over by other lawyers. What do you do?”
“I’m one of those Ladies Who Lunch.”
“And would you lunch with me?”
“What on earth for?”
“I find you to be wonderful company.”
Ruth paused for a moment. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Well, I’ve never been one to impose unwanted attention on a woman, so it all depends. Do you want
me to flirt with you?”

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“I don’t know. It’s been quite awhile since anyone has tried. I’ve always enjoyed a little harmless
flirtation. Is this harmless?”
“Quite harmless.”
“I think you must be very strange.”
“Why?”
“The why must be obvious. I’m a 61 year old married woman and you are . . . what?”
“31”
“Yes, half my age. Are you married?”
“No.”
“Why wouldn’t you be interested in my daughter?”
“Maybe I would be, if I met her. But I didn’t meet her. I met you. It’s just lunch.”
“And this is just coffee.”
“Did your husband teach you to judge people?”
“Just the wrong doers.”
“And who decides right from wrong?”
“I do.”
Ruth grinned at Jack believing that she had got the best of him in their verbal joust.
“I’m afraid its time to go.” said Ruth.
“Take my card.” Jack pulled out a business card and jotted down his home phone number. “Call me if
you get hungry for lunch.”
Ruth took the card and smiled. “I have to warn you, I don’t keep regular meals.”
“That’s alright, I’ll save my appetite.”
Ruth studied the card for a moment and then began the ritual of putting on her winter gear and
arranging her holiday parcels. “Goodbye, and thank you for the pleasant company.”
“Goodbye.” said Jack as he watched her walk away. Her figure was matronly but Jack knew that he
would be able to work through any physical defects when the time came. As the door closed behind
Ruth, Jack saw her throw something into the curbside trash. He waited only a moment before leaving
the cafe. Outside the coffeeshop, Jack pulled his crumpled business card out of the garbage can.
By the time Jack got home his mood had turned sour. Everything has gone so perfectly with Ruth. His
execution had been flawless. She had responded so well, he was certain that they would arrange to
meet again. What had gone wrong? He entered his apartment and sat down on the couch without
acknowledging the presence of his roommate watching television.
“What’s wrong?” asked Randy, the roommate.
“Nothing.” was Jack’s terse reply.
“Ooh, let me get my notebook.”
Jack and Randy had been college roommates. After graduation, neither saw any point in disturbing an
arrangement that had worked so well for four years. Their plan was to eschew marriage and trade up to

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increasingly luxurious apartments as they prospered in their individual careers. Prosperity eluded the
pair and they remained in their first post graduate apartment. Their vow of lifelong bachelorhood was
easier to keep. Jack was a confirmed bachelor and Randy was a confirmed homosexual. Randy did not
believe that homosexuals were meant to enter into monogamous relationships. What was the point of
being gay, he reasoned, if you were going to limit your sexual activities? It was Randy that introduced
Jack to the idea that a man could lead a life of endless promiscuity.
Randy returned with his notebook. “Okay, which movie star does she most look like?”
“What makes you think that there’s a woman?”
“There’s always a woman when you act like you’re on the rag. Now, which movie star does she most
look like?”
“Joan Plowright.”
“Who the hell is Joan Plowright?”
“Why do you ask what movie star my women look like when you don’t know anything about the
movies? She was in Widow’s Peak.”
“Didn’t see it.”
“The Scarlet Letter.”
“Didn’t see it.”
“She was nominated for Best Supporting Actress for Enchanted April.”
“Meant to see it. Who else does she look like?”
“Maureen O’Sullivan.”
“Like in the Tarzan movies?”
“More like Mia Farrow’s mother in Hannah and her Sisters.”
“Yeow, you’re a sick puppy. How old is she?” Randy asked as he made notes in his book.
“61”
“Did you get any action?”
“ If I got any action would I be on the rag, as you so colourfully put it?”
“Easy there Sparky, I’m just getting down the facts.”
Randy liked to tell people that he was in the theatre. Actually, he was a stagehand at a local community
theatre. A rather inept stagehand. But Randy was just biding his time until he became a published
author. Unfortunately, Randy was even more inept as a writer. Although he had reasonably good
technical skills, his writing suffered from a fatal lack of imagination. His story lines were predictable
and without evidence of subplot, dramatic tension or literary merit. So Randy devised a fairly
unimaginative solution to his creative handicap. Instead of making up a story, he would chronicle
Jack’s sex life.
Jack was not in the mood to indulge Randy. “Why the hell don’t you write about your own sex life?
You sleep with considerably more men than I do women.”
“Sleep has never been part of my sexual repertoire. Besides I have a very dull sex life. It’s active but
dull. All of my men look like Tom Selleck. But look at your list.” Randy flips through the pages of
his notebook. “Bette Midler, Rosie O’Donnell, Whoopi Goldberg, a fat Jody Foster, an old Sarah

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Jessica Parker, an ugly Cher, Bea Arthur, Rosanne Barr, Nancy Culp. I got you with a postal worker in
a wheelchair and a beautician with a hairlip.”
“She was a dietician.” Jack corrected Randy.
“There was a dwarf, a woman with a moustache.”
“Hey, facial hair is not so unusual.” protested Jack.
“A bald woman.”
“She was recovering from chemo.”
“And a bank teller with seven fingers.”
“Her brother blew off the other three with a home made pipe bomb. She could count money faster than
any other teller in the bank.”
“Yeah, it’s easy when all those extra fingers don’t get in the way. It’s a regular freak show.”
“That’s not fair, they’re just regular people.”
“Why don’t you just come out of the closet and admit you’re gay?”
This was a habitual quarrel between the two roommates. Randy insisted that Jack was a latent
homosexual who could not accept his true sexual orientation. It was unfortunate for Jack that Randy
had solid evidence to support his accusations.
Being constantly on the prowl for women had given Jack reliable sexual radar. His radar became
engaged during his first semester at college when he observed a procession of male students passing by
his regular library study table with unexplained frequency and regularity. Jack knew that these men
were on the prowl. Expecting to find a legendary wellhead of horny women, Jack began to carefully
track the migratory habits of these mysterious men. His investigations led him to a locked study carrel.
Dozens of male students had a key to this carrel and the traffic in and out of the small room would have
been the envy of the corner Starbucks. After staking out the carrel for a week, Jack made his move.
The trick was to make eye contact with one of the roving men. Jack chose to give the signal to a regular
participant of the nightly ritual, a clean cut young man in tight blue jeans. Jack looked into his eyes and
was rewarded with an imperceptible nod. With a combination of apprehension and anticipation, Jack
followed his guide to the forbidden carrel. The young man unlocked the door and they both quickly
slipped inside.
Jack was confronted by the sight of a half dozen men engaged in every possible type of homosexual act
in a room that was little larger the desk it contained. The air was close with the acrid smell of male sex.
The space was too confined to avoid being touched by the other men. Jack’s partner was exhaling
directly into Jack’s face. Jack found it difficult to return the young man’s intense stare. Unfortunately,
there was little else to look at that did not cause Jack even more distress. Looking down, he saw that his
silent partner’s jeans were straining to conceal an enormous erection. Without saying a word, the young
man unzipped his jeans and pull out his penis. Jack took it in his hand. It looked and felt like his own
penis and Jack had a phantom masturbatory experience in which he could feel a penis in his hand but
could not feel a hand on his penis. Jack was shocked back to reality when the man on the end of the
penis tried to intrude on Jack’s sexual experience. The man was obviously enjoying himself and moved
in closer to try to kiss Jack. Jerking off the man was one thing but Jack could not bring himself to kiss
him. It was too intimate. Jack abandoned the penis where it stood and bolted for the door. And thus
ended Jack’s first encounter with Randy. Randy eventually forgave Jack’s rudeness but would always
describe Jack as the worst cock teaser he had ever met.

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“What do I have to do to convince you that I’m not gay?” asked Jack for the hundredth time.
“You can start by giving me a blow job,” was Randy’s standard reply.
“Just look at this notebook,” Randy said as he waived his notes in Jack’s face. “There’s something
going on here. You change sexual partners like a gay man. And all your women are either circus freaks
or look like lesbians or gay icons.”
“I’m adventurous,” was Jack’s feeble reply.
“You’re not adventurous, you’re predictable. If you were a real adventurer, you would choose someone
who looks like Harvey Firestone.”
“He’s a guy,” said Jack.
“Or Tom Cruise.”
“He’s a guy, said Jack
“Or Rupaul.”
“He’s a guy, said Jack
“Rupaul is not a guy.”
“He certainly is a guy.”
“Since when?” demanded Randy
“I assume since he was born.”
“Damn!” said Randy “He was the only woman that ever appealed to me. There goes my last hope for a
heterosexual relationship. Anyway, you’ve tried every type of woman there is. It’s obvious that no
woman can give you what you’re looking for?”
“I’m no different than you,” said Jack “You keep jumping from man to man. You haven’t found what
you’re looking for either but you don’t hear me suggesting that you have sex with a woman.”
“I could never get it up with a woman. That’s a claim we both know you can’t make about having sex
with a man. Remember, the body doesn’t lie.”
“Why don’t you let it lie?” Jack tried to put an end to the conversation.
“O.K. I’ll lay off. You don’t have to bite my head off, if you’ll pardon the expression.” An
uncomfortable silence filled the room. As usual, Randy was the first to break the tension. “Let me
make it up to you. The easiest way to get laid is to come down to Fetish Night with me.”
“What’s that?” asked Jack
“Where have you been? Fetish Night is all the rage. The Devil in Blue Jeans holds a fetish night every
other Thursday. Everyone dresses up as their favourite fetish and then spends the rest of the night role-
playing. It’s wild. People walk up to you and ask if they can suck your toes. The masochists beg to be
beaten and the sadists refuse. That sort of thing.”
“The Devil in Blue Jeans is a gay bar.”
“Not exclusively. And all kinds of women come on Fetish Night, if you’ll pardon the expression. If
you’re looking for something a little different, you’ll find it at Fetish Night. It takes all the guesswork
out of dating. Every man, woman and child is there for the same thing. All you have to do is choose the
age, weight and size.”

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“Forget it.”
“Suit yourself.” said Randy nonchalantly “You’ll excuse me while I take a shower.”
The relationship between the two men survived for more than ten years because neither roommate cared
enough about the other to sustain a fight. Besides, Randy knew that Jack could not resist the
opportunity to meet new women. Later that evening Randy emerged from his room to find Jack sitting
on the couch, aimlessly channel surfing.
“Well, how do I look?” asked Randy as he performed an elegant pirouette. Randy was dressed in a full
white wedding gown complete with train and veil.
“Breathtaking” replied Jack. “Are you sure there’ll be women there?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, I think I’ll join you.”
“What are you going dressed as?”
“I’ll just go as myself.”
“Listen, why don’t you dress up as a groom. I have everything you need in my closet. We’ll look great
together.”
“Are you nuts? Everyone will think we’re a couple and I’ll be fighting off the gay boys with a stick. If
you’ll pardon the expression.” Jack added sarcastically.
“I’m warning you, you have to dress up in fetish,” warned Randy.
“Will they let me in if I don’t dress up?”
Randy smiled suspiciously. “Yes.” Jack knew that the one word reply meant trouble.
“But . . .” Jack said.
“No buts. They’ll let you in even if you don’t dress up.”
Jack was still not convinced but knew that he was not likely to get any useful information from Randy.
“Then let’s go. I’ll drive.”
They arrived at Devil in Blue Jeans at 11:00 pm. The club wasn’t exactly in the gay neighbourhood,
but it was only a short walk away. There were a dozen or so people shivering in a small line up at the
door. The line was more a function of management trying to make the club look popular, than the
result of any necessary crowd control. Jack was relieved to see a few women waiting to get inside. The
crowd looked pretty tame. A couple of drag queens and the rest dressed in leather, latex or dog collars.
Randy was the most outrageous person in line. Despite the cold weather, Randy had left his coat in the
car in order to show off his gown to good effect. The line-up moved quickly and Jack and Randy took
their turn in front of the bouncer after only 20 minutes.
“Hi Randy, nice dress.” said the bouncer.
“Thank you, Harry.” Randy performed another pirouette. Jack presumed that Randy would be spinning
like a top all night. “But do you think it’s vulgar that I’m wearing white?” Randy leaned closer to
Harry and continued in a stage whisper. “I’m not a virgin you know.”
“I’ll keep your secret,” replied Harry. “What’s with your friend?”
“Jack’s a bit of a spoiled sport, I’m afraid.”

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The bouncer gave a heavy sigh and turned to speak to Jack. “Here’s the drill. It’s fetish night so, if
you’re not wearing a costume, you have to take your pants off to get in.”
Jack turned Randy and said with some irritation “You said I didn’t need a costume to get in.”
“Didn’t you hear what Harry just said?” answered Randy. “You don’t need a costume, just take your
pants off.”
“You might have told me. I would have worn boxers instead of briefs.” Jack decided to handle the
situation in good humour. “Is that the only way?” he asked the bouncer.
“I’ll tell you what.” replied Harry. “If you want, I’ll let you in if you piss in your pants.” The rest of
the line-up was beginning to take an interest in the situation unfolding at the front door.
“Can’t I use water?”
“No. Just piss in your pants. Right now. I’m watching.”
Jack thought for a moment and took off his pants to the sounds of laughter and catcalls from the other
members of the line-up. “I’ll get you for this.” Jack threatened Randy, smiling in embarrassment as
they entered to the club. “ Every fag in the place will be after me.”
“Just beat them off with your stick.”
The interior of the Devil in Blue Jeans was a little more festive than the line-up outside the door. But
just barely. Little attention had been given to decor and the club relied almost entirely on lighting to
provide atmosphere. A disco ball was throwing off a kaleidoscope of light, giving the club a cheesy
carnival quality. The hallway leading to the bathrooms was filthy, foreshadowing the filth of the
bathrooms themselves. Only the bravest of patrons or those with shallow bladder and bowel capacity
would dare to enter the dirty passageway for the hall was also the preferred spot for the gay clientele to
give and receive blow jobs.
The crowd was colourfully dressed, if you count black as a colour. The patrons of fetish night were not
half as outlandish as they supposed they were. With few exceptions, the costumes were predictable.
Many of the gay men were exposing their buttocks and more. There were several costumes with a
Christmas theme and there was at least one dirty Santa Claus. But there were a few exceptional
costumes. One woman wore nothing but feathers. Bright red and green feathers such as never existed
on an actual bird. Her breasts and pubic hair were clearly visible but the feathers provided such a
strong visual distraction that it was impossible to concentrate long on her private parts. Another
powerful costume was a woman in diapers. Indeed, she was not the only diaper clad patron in the bar,
more than one gay man wore similar baby attire, complete with diapers, bonnet and pacifier. But this
woman wore only a diaper, ironically exposing large breasts that appeared ready to feed a baby of her
own. It was next to impossible not to stare at the woman’s private parts. Of course there were a
number of men and women who, like Jack, had checked their pants at the door. The crowd had divided
itself into gay and straight ghettos: the gays occupying the dance floor and surrounding environs, the
straights occupying the bar.
Randy entered the club to a chorus of cheers and promptly abandoned his friend. Despite Randy’s
promises, there was virtually no mingling among the club guests. In short it was similar to the crowd at
most bars with most everyone partying with the people they came with. Also as in most bars, the music
was too loud and given over to a monotonous string of techno tunes. But Jack failed to notice any of
the bar’s shortcomings. From Jack’s point of view, Fetish Night completely lived up to his
expectations. For Jack, the club held a promise of sex. The bird lady and the baby were obvious targets
but both were occupied and Jack was never fond of waiting in line. He decided to order a drink and
assess the situation from his perch at the edge of the bar. Despite his best intentions he found himself

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almost exclusively watching the bird lady and the baby’s breasts. Sometime in the middle of his second
drink a leather clad dominatrix approached Jack. The dominatrix explained that it was her job to check
out the tourists. The dominatrix pulled at the waistband of Jack’s white cotton briefs. She gave his
penis a little poke with her riding crop and said; too bad, she was looking for a man with a big dick and
Jack didn’t measure up. Rather than feeling humiliated, Jack was thrilled with the interaction. But hard
as he tried, he could not persuade the dominatrix to spend any more time with him. He was instructed to
come back after he had succeeded in growing another three inches. Later in the evening a woman in a
full Nazi uniform approached Jack. Speaking in a thick but fake German accent, she introduced herself
as Judy of the SS and demanded to know whether Jack was Jewish. Thinking that the way into the
woman’s pants was to play into her fantasy, Jack adopted a meek countenance and replied that he was
indeed Jewish. “Really?” replied Judy of the SS, “What high school did you go to?” Jack was forced
to explain that he was not really Jewish but was merely role-playing. The Nazi brought the
conversation to an abrupt halt, explaining that she only dated within her religion. His experience with
the SS left Jack a little more cautious. So when a chubby little woman dressing in pigtails and a
schoolgirl’s uniform asked if Jack was a pedophile, he was a little too forceful in his denial. The
schoolgirl left without uttering another word.
Jack was exhausted from frustration when he spotted a normal looking woman standing by herself at the
end of the bar. She was a slight woman, slim, perhaps a little mousey but with a pretty face. She was
observing the circus unfold around her with a childlike wonder that made everyone else in the bar seem
jaded by comparison. She wore regular street clothes and looked out of place at Fetish Night. Not
because of her ordinary clothing but because she seemed to be the only person not engaged in a game of
sexual posturing. If Jack had a ‘type’, it was any woman who gave off sexual signals and this modest
woman gave off none. Normally Jack would move on to easier pickings and yet the woman must be at
Fetish Night for a reason. She turned her head and caught Jack staring at her. Jack smiled and moved
next to her.
“I’ve been waiting all night for you to notice me,” said the woman. “I’m Lillith.”
“Hi, I’m Jack.” Jack extended his hand. “What do you mean, you were waiting for me?”
“I had a premonition.” Lillith replied.
“Are you psychic?”
“Just a little bit.”
“I’m intrigued. Do you have any more news flashes from the future?”
Lillith pressed her fingers to her temples. With her eyes closed she pretended to go into a trance. “I see
a pair of star-crossed lovers.” She opened her eyes with a smile. “But don’t worry, the story has a
happy ending.”
The conversation was going far better than Jack had expected. “How did you manage to keep your
pants on?” he asked.
“This is my costume.” she answered pointing to her jeans and cotton top with a wave of her hand.
“So what are you dressed up as? I mean, what’s your fetish?”
“I have a fetish for normal people.”
“And that got you past the doorman? I didn’t know normal people were so hard to come by. There
must be more to this story than meets the eye.”
“I’ll never tell,” relied Lillith playfully.

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“Will I learn your secret if I ply you with drinks?”
“It’s worth a try. I’m drinking wine.”
Jack ordered two more drinks from the bar. Jack and Lillith watched the homosexual couples on the
dance floor. “Do you dance?” asked Jack
“No. I don’t have the equipment.”
Jack let the it pass. He wasn’t really interested in dancing anyway. To him dancing was a vertical
expression of a horizontal intention. “What do you do?” he asked,
“I drink.” she said as she sipped her wine. “I see this is your first time at Fetish Night. You’re dressed
like a tourist,” Lillith said looking down at Jack’s underwear.
“Yes” he answered with a laugh. “And I’ve been treated like a tourist all night. Have you been here
before?”
“Just during Fetish Night. I love this,” she said pointing at the bedlam taking place around them. “You
can be anything you want on Fetish Night. You can even be normal if you want. And of course that’s
the hardest masquerade of all. That’s why Harry likes my costume.”
“Do you think I might be normal enough for you?” asked Jack.
“It’s hard to tell with you standing in your underwear. At least you have nothing to hide. Why don’t
you tell me about yourself and we’ll see how it goes from there?”
And Jack started to talk. They talked for hours, oblivious to the madness taking place around them. He
had never met anyone so unaffected by the modern epidemic of cynicism. Lillith seemed to be the most
authentic person he had ever met. Her honesty infected him like a virus. It was the first time in Jack’s
life that he had a conversation with a woman that was not specifically contrived to get him laid. He told
her of his life, his years in college, his roommate, his dismal performance as a lawyer and his single-
minded dedication to chasing women. Lillith listened with passion. She encouraged and coaxed Jack to
reveal more of his soul. And as Jack heard himself speak, it was as if he was hearing his life’s story for
the first time. Last call came too quickly that night. Jack was not ready to go home.
“Can I take you home?” asked Jack.
“That would be nice,” replied Lillith sweetly. “But didn’t you come with your roommate?”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about the blushing bride. Last time I saw him he was saying I do to some guy in the
bathroom hallway. Screw him, let’s go.”
They got their coats and Jack’s pants and headed for Jack’s car.
“You’ll want to stay overnight, won’t you?” Lillith asked Jack drove towards her house.
“If it’s alright with you.”
“Before we go any further, there’s something I have to tell you.” Lillith paused
“Go on. What ever it is, it’s O.K.” said Jack supportively
“I’m celibate,” said Lillith.
Jack was stunned into silence. To say that you didn’t want to have sex on a particular night was one
thing but to say that you’re celibate was something entirely different. “What . . . ? Uhm, are . . . ?
Have you always, I mean how long have you been celibate?”
“My entire life.”

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“So you’re a virgin?”
“That’s right.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Maybe later.”
On any other night, Jack would have tried to charm her out of her chastity, but not tonight. “I’m not
sure I’ll be able to handle you being celibate.”
“Why don’t you call me tomorrow and we’ll pick this up where we left off. I predict all this will have a
happy ending,” Lillith said cryptically. .
“Is a kiss good night appropriate?” asked Jack
“Very,” replied Lillith as she moved as close to Jack as the bucket seats allowed.

Randy showed up at the apartment at two in the afternoon, still wearing his wedding dress, looking a
little worse for wear.
“Thanks to you, I had to spend the night with the most horrible pervert. Unzip me.
“What was his fetish?”
“I don’t even want to think about it. Do we have any more flea and tick powder?”
“Not again! Better check the medicine cabinet.”
After a hot shower, a long nap and a quick meal, Randy confronted Jack with his notebook in hand.
“Okay, what movie star does she most look like?”
“What makes you think that there’s a woman?” replied Jack innocently.
“Do we have to play this game every time? Why else would you abandon me in that den of
degenerates? Now, what movie star does she most look like?”
“A young Liza Minelli”
“Oooh, Daughter of Dorothy, I approve. How young, like in Cabaret?”
“No younger. What was that movie she made before Cabaret? She was nominated for best actress.”
“One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” suggested Randy
“Liza Minelli wasn’t in One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. That was a Jack Nicholson movie.”
“The Midwich Cuckoo.” Randy tried again
“That was a cheap horror flick, with kids with big eyes.”
“It was some kind of Cuckoo movie. I’m sure of it.”
“You’re some kind of Cuckoo. Just imagine her as a very young Liza.”
“So she looks like a boy?”
“Well, maybe a little,” Jack admitted
“Did you get any action?”
“Just a kiss.”

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“That’s it, first base? You didn’t even getting any tit?”
Jack paused before dropping the bombshell. “She’s celibate.”
“Celibate? You mean like she’s smart?”
“You truly are an idiot. Celibate like in she doesn’t have sex.”
“Not ever?” asked Randy incredulously.
“Not ever.” replied Jack
“Can people do that?”
“Apparently.
“So what are you going to do?”
“Go out with her again.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know why. This girl is different. She seems to have it all. Did I tell you she’s psychic? And
not flaky psychic. I mean she really has an extra sense.”
“What else did you find out about her?” Randy asked.
Jack paused. He belatedly realized that he had done all the talking and neglected to learn any of
Lillith’s life stories. “Uhmm, not too much, I’m afraid.”
“You should be afraid. You’re falling in love. Of all the perverted things you’ve ever done, this is the
most perverted.”
“Are you afraid that you won’t be able to finish your book?” asked Jack.
“No, I’m afraid that I will have to finish it,” answered Randy dejectedly.
“Lillith predicted a happy ending. Maybe that will help you.”
The next day Jack and Lillith began their romance in earnest. Jack made up for lost time by questioning
Lillith incessantly about her background. Her father was a poultry butcher. The family business was a
bodega in what had once been a vibrant Eastern European market. But as each successive wave of
immigrants prospered and moved uptown, the market changed its ethnic affiliation. So Eastern
Europeans gave way to the Chinese who left the market to the Vietnamese who abandoned the
ramshackle buildings to Caribbean immigrants. The business finally failed shortly after Lillith’s birth
and her father deserted his wife and daughter for greener pastures. It had been a difficult birth and
Lillith had been left with an unspecified birth defect, it was the only topic Lillith refused to discuss.
Lillith’s mother received a small pension for the disability. Her mother lived on the margin of society.
She raised rabbits, lizards, mice and guinea pigs that her neighbours bought primarily as pets, although
more than one animal saw the inside of a stew pot. She was also an expert astrologer with a reputation
for accuracy that expanded far beyond her circle of acquaintances. Lillith grew up in the shadow of her
mother’s dominant personality. Yet when Lillith’s time came, she blossomed into a beautiful and
independent spirit.
What made Jack finally fall in love at the ripe old age of 31? Jack would later claim that he had finally
grown out of the natural narcissism of youth. Lillith insisted that Jack had never found a girl with that
extra little something. But Randy knew the truth. Jack’s inability to get into Lillith’s pants made him
notice, for the first time, that the vagina was actually attached to a person. And much to Jack’s wonder,
that person was a delight.

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Jack and Lillith were rarely seen outside of each other’s company. In fact, they were rarely seen at all.
They fell into that social black hole that new lovers seem to get lost in. They lived in a universe of two,
jealously guarding the entrance, allowing no one to disturb what they had created. They separated only
on Christmas day, Jack being obliged to spend time with his family. Jack invited Lillith to join his
family’s celebration but she refused, claiming to hate all things Christmas and Christian. Instead,
Lillith offered to entertain Jack on New Year’s Eve with a traditional dinner at her mother’s home.
Before they arrived at her mother’s, Lillith felt compelled to explain a few things to Jack. First, her
mother was a Wiccan. What’s that, asked Jack, is she a witch? Under no circumstances was Jack to
refer to her mother as a witch, warned Lillith. A witch is a derogatory term. The Christian Church
used it to discredit Wiccans. Wicca is a legitimate though persecuted religion. In any case, her
mother’s home would contain a number of Wiccan artifacts. Jack was free to question anything he saw
provided he treated it all with the same respect he would bestow upon any religion. Second, Lillith’s
mother also had a birth defect. She had a sixth finger on her left hand. She was not at all sensitive
about it but it did tend to unnerve the uninitiated.
The weather that New Year’s Eve was typically unusual. A light snow began late in the afternoon. As
the sun went down, the temperature began to rise, turning the snow to freezing rain and eventually into
a ferocious rainstorm, complete with thunder and lightning. Lillith’s mother still lived adjacent to the
long abandoned butcher bodega. The neighbourhood had continued its steady deterioration and was
now mainly Haitian. A few stalls still served the local residents but not enough to call the area a
market.
Jack and Lillith pulled up to a small house that looked as though it had been built in the 1930's. It was
made of clapboard and probably was never intended to be used as a residence. An elderly looking goat
sought shelter from the rain on the front porch, braying loudly at the storm. “Easy Ishmael.” Lillith
said to the goat as they walked through the front door.
The house was not as bad as Jack had been led to believe. The only evidence of the household’s
Wiccan inclinations was a few New Age posters and some antique kitchen implements that were
hanging on a pegboard over the sink. Lillith’s mother looked younger than her 42 years. Her skin
remained smooth and her body relatively fit although some signs of middle age spread were evident
around her hips. Overall, she was as pretty as her daughter.
“Jack, this is my mother. Mom, this is my friend, Jack Blackstone.” Lillith made the formal
introductions.
“Please call me Hagar.” Lillith’s mother instructed.
“Hagar, that’s an unusual name.” Jack’s ability to make small talk was limited to pick up lines.
“Actually, it’s a Wiccan name” Hagar explained.
“Lillith told me that you were a Wiccan. I’m afraid that I don’t know very much about your religion.”
The conversation continued as food and drink were brought to the table and consumed at a leisurely
pace. “Think of Wicca as the original hippie religion.” Hagar explained. “It’s earth-reverent in that it
proposes that all elements of the natural world are an integral part of God.”
“Mom, please don’t lecture. Nobody’s interested.”
Jack quickly assessed that he had stepped into a quintessential mother-daughter argument. But Jack was
determined to find out all that he could about Lillith and her background. So despite Lillith’s
objections, he pushed ahead. “It’s O.K. Lillith. I’m interested. How does Wiccan belief differ from
Christianity?”

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“Wicca is less hierarchical. We believe that God has both a masculine and a feminine side, both sides
being more or less equal. The Goddess side, though, is usually considered to be slightly more powerful
because of Her ability to give birth to new life.”
“What made you become a Wiccan?” asked Jack
“Our family has been Wiccan as far back as anyone can remember. It’s part of our famtrad, that’s a
family folklore or heritage. Like our birth defects.” Hagar raised her left hand showing Jack her
vestigial sixth finger. It was much smaller than a normal finger, perhaps a third the size of her pinky
and it stuck out from the rest of her fingers at a 45º angle. “I also have a third nipple.” offered Hagar.
“Mother! Please!” Lillith shrieked in embarrassment.
“I’m not embarrassed,” stated Hagar.
“But I am, Mom.”
“Can I see your hand?” asked Jack. The threesome was in the middle of eating their salad. Hagar put
down her fork and offered up her hand as Lillith glowered at both of them.
“Will you ask to see her nipple next?” demanded Lillith.
Jack ignored her tantrum and turned over Hagar’s hand in his own. He bent Hagar’s sixth finger
checking its flexibility. “It doesn’t look like it has very much mobility. Does it get in the way?” Jack
asked.
“A little.”
“Does it cause you any pain?”
“Only when it rains”
Jack released Hagar’s hand and returned to his meal. “Why don’t you have it removed?”
“I don’t believe in tampering with God’s gifts. Besides there are some advantages.”
“Such as?” asked Jack.
“Oh boy, everything’s coming out now,” moaned Lillith.
“ It helps me with my astrological readings.”
“How?” asked Jack
Hagar stood up to clear away the salad dishes. “I’m not sure but our famtrad has it that our extra sense
is somehow connected to our physical abnormalities. The larger the flaw, the more powerful the extra
sense.”
Hagar was making room on the kitchen table for the main course. Lillith was on her feet helping to
serve the meal. After they had settled down again Hagar volunteered some more family history. “Do
you know why I named my daughter Lillith? There is an ancient story we tell about the creation of
Man and Woman. God created Adam first, out of clay. Adam was given free will and was promised
dominance over every other living creature. But Adam grew lonely for human companionship and
asked God to create a woman for him. God complied and created a woman, also out of clay. God
named this first woman, Lillith. But because she was created exactly like Adam, Lillith had free will
and would neither serve nor obey Adam. Adam accused God of reneging on His promise to give Man
dominion over all other earthly creature, including Woman. So Adam asked God to take Lillith away
and give him a woman that he could control. So God took Lillith away and created another woman out

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of Adam’s rib. Because she was made out of a piece of Adam, she was obliged to obey him. Adam
named her Eve.”
“So you named your daughter Lillith to remind her that she had free will and was not obliged to obey
her husband,” suggested Jack.
“No. I named her Lillith to remind her that sometimes God makes mistakes.”
Lillith gave a heavy sigh. It was obvious that both the story and its attendant lesson did not hold up
well over heavy repetition. “I have my own physical abnormality.” offered Jack. Despite herself,
Lillith turned to stare at Jack. Jack realized that he had belatedly become self-conscious. “It’s nothing
really. Not like an extra finger. Or even a third nipple.”
Lillith glared at Jack while her mother attempted to encourage him. “What is it Jack?”
Embarrassed, Jack continued. “It’s my tongue. My family always joked, I guess you could call it our
famtrad, but they said I was a mutant because I have a long tongue. It sticks out in all of my baby
pictures. So you can imagine, I was the brunt of a lot of sexual innuendo during my teenage years.”
Jack looked at Hagar’s and Lillith’s expectant faces. “I’ve grown into it since then.”
“Will you show it to us?” asked Hagar. Lillith was silent, torn between curiosity and devotion.
After a slight hesitation, Jack complied, unfurling his impressive tongue. First, he stretched it down
until it touched the cleft in his chin. He then changed direction and used it to lick the tip of his nose.
With that, the well-rehearsed show was over. If truth be known, Jack’s tongue was only fractionally
larger than average but both Hagar and Lillith responded with peals of laughter.
“I’m sure that Lillith will make good use of your prodigious gift.” Hagar said.
The company dug into their main course as the storm continued to increase in intensity. The goat’s
braying became more frantic. “Why don’t we let the Ishmael in?” suggested Hagar to her daughter.
“Mom, we’re trying to eat. Don’t let that goat in here.”
“I let your father eat at my table for five years, I guess I can have Ishmael eat with us too. His table
manners aren’t any worse. Do you mind Jack?”
Jack was a little hesitant but waived his objection. Hagar went to the front door to let the goat come in
out of the rain. The goat shook off his dampness and positioned himself by the kitchen sink where it
proceeded to eat the leftovers off the dirty dishes.
“Why do you have a goat?” asked Jack. The smell of damp goat was putting him off his meal.
“I used to do astrological readings for a Jamaican butcher down the block. When he closed up, he left
me the goat as a present. I always intended to eat it when times got tough but they never got that bad.
So he became a pet. He’s become useful in some of my Wiccaning Circle Rituals.”
“What’s that?” asked Jack.
“Those are my mother’s spells,” replied Lillith, cynically.
“Would you like me to make you up a spell? It will be a New Year’s present,” offered Hagar. “What
would you like? A love potion?”
“Thanks anyway but I’m already in love,” said Jack, causing both himself and Lillith to blush.
“How about one that will turn your enemies into friends?”
“Sorry, I don’t have any enemies.”

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“Would you like to increase your psychic visions?”
“No thanks,” replied Jack laughing. “I’ll leave the visions to you and Lillith.”
“How about a money spell?”
This caught Jack’s interest. “Well, everyone could use a little extra money.”
Hagar smiled and silently left the table. “Come on. Help me clear off the table,” ordered Lillith.
While Jack and Lillith cleaned up after dinner, Hagar prepared her spell. She dipped her sixth finger in
a jar of powdered bayberry root and drew a circle on the table with the black powder. She then placed a
bayberry scented candle in the centre of the circle. Lillith put on the kettle for tea and joined Jack at the
table. Hagar lit the candle without ceremony. When the kettle came to a boil, she brought out some tea
leaves and three cups. Two were normal looking mugs but one cup had horns where the handle would
normally be located. Hagar placed the horned mug in front of Jack. She put the tea leaves in an old
fashioned sieve and poured the boiling water through the sieve into each of their mugs. The three
began to drink their tea.
“The tea is made out of a herb known as earth-smoke,” explained Hagar.
“It’s . . . unusual,” offered Jack diplomatically. The horns of his mug pointed upward each time he
sipped his tea. The candle gave off an unusual smell that mixed well with the tea’s pungent aroma.
“Now rub the spent leaves on the bottom of your shoes.” ordered Hagar.
Once again Jack did as he was told.
“Is that it?” asked Jack
“That’s it,” confirmed Hagar. “By this time next year you should have increased your income
threefold. It’s a good night for a spell. It’s not only a full moon, it’s also a blue moon.”
“I thought blue moons only happened in fairy tales,” remarked Jack.
“No. A blue moon is just what we call the second full moon of any calendar month. In fact it’s not
particularly rare. Mind you, I’ve never seen a blue moon occur on New Year’s Eve.” explained Hagar.
“New Year’s Eve! Oh my god, it’s past midnight. We forgot to toast in the New Year,” shrieked
Lillith. “Happy New Year!” she shouted and raised her tea mug to clink mugs with her mother and
horns with Jack.
“Happy New Year.” replied Jack and he leaned forward to exchange kisses with Lillith and her mother.
Ishmael brayed loudly and attempted to lick the bottoms of Jack’s shoes.
The dinner party wound down shortly after that. They said their goodbyes at the door. “Let’s make
this an annual event,” suggested Jack.
“That would be nice.” agreed Hagar. She helped Lillith on with her coat and said softly to her daughter
“Tell him tonight. There’ll never be a better time.”
“Good night Mom,” Lillith said as she kissed her mother on the cheek.
“That was pleasant,” said Jack as they drove home.
“Sorry I was so bitchy” said Lillith.
“There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“No, I was snapping at my mother all night.” Lillith sighed. “I don’t know why I let her get to me.”

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“It’s normal for mothers and daughters to compete.”
“I know. But knowing doesn’t help.”
They sat quietly as Jack drove through the storm. The weather had gotten colder again and the rain
seemed to be turning into slush.
“Do you have something to tell me?” asked Jack.
“My mother has a big mouth.” replied Lillith.
“It’s the perfect night. There’s a blue moon,” said Jack, playfully.
“How can you tell through the clouds?”
“I’m taking your mother’s word for it.”
“Listen, Jack. I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid that you wouldn’t want to see me
anymore.”
“It can’t be as bad as all that. Why don’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?”
“You forget. I’m psychic.”
“After meeting your mother, I believe it. So just how powerful is your psychic power?”
“Very powerful.”
“So that means you have a serious birth defect.”
“Very serious.”
“What is it?” asked Jack.
“I’m a hermaphrodite,” replied Lillith.
Jack was stunned. “A hermaphrodite? You’re transsexual?”
“No. A transsexual is someone who has a sex change operation. I was born with both male and female
sex organs.”
“But you were raised as a woman?” Jack was surprised at how disgusted he felt.
“It was easier to make me a woman. Neither my ovaries nor my testicles work properly so I take
estrogen. My penis is not much to look at. It’s rather small and grows out a little to the side.”
Jack shuddered. He felt sick at the mental image Lillith was creating. “So now you know why I’m
celibate,” continued Lillith. “I suppose I could have sex. With either sex really because if I stop taking
my estrogen, I can develop a reasonable erection. But most people wouldn’t have the stomach for it.”
Still Jack remained silent with horror. “Jack, say something,” Lillith asked softly. “Aren’t I the same
woman you fell in love with?”
“You’re not a woman at all,” answered Jack.
“Don’t you think I know that?” snapped Lillith. “Do you still love me?”
“I don’t know. Just give me some time to get used to it.”
“I have experience in this area,” said Lillith, resigned to her fate. “The more time you take, the less
likely you are to accept me. Just take me home. Call me when you feel better about things.”
They drove the rest of the home in silence. It was the last time Jack was to see Lillith.

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Randy returned home on January 4th wearing a slightly disheveled nurse’s uniform.
“That’s the last time I’m going to a party held in a hospital emergency room. Sure the drugs were
great, but someone started messing with the defibulator and I spent four hours being dead.” Randy
flopped down on the couch, too wrapped up in his own story to notice Jack’s toxic mood. Randy
shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I think I found Dr. Proctor’s lost rectal thermometer.”
Jack continued to stare into space. “Hey are you listening to me? You’re missing my best stuff.
What’s the matter?”
Jack looked at Randy but still could not find his voice. “How was your New Years? You had dinner
with Lillith and her Mom, right? Ohhh.” Randy finally saw the light. “Let me get my notebook.”
“I’m going to shove your notebook in after that rectal thermometer,” threatened Jack.
“Nasty, nasty,” replied Randy as he returned with the intrusive notebook. “Now what happened?”
Jack’s only reply was a dirty look. “What was her mother like? Was she fuckable?”
“Shut up!”
“O.K., it wasn’t the mother. Look, you know you want to talk about it. You can either tell me or find
yourself a $2 a minute psychiatrist. And we both know that you don’t have the money.”
“She’s a hermaphrodite.”
“Who is?”
“Lillith! Lillith is a hermaphrodite!”
“You mean like she bleeds a lot?”
“No you moron, she’s both sexes. She has a penis and a pussy.”
“Wow, can people do that?”
“Apparently.”
“Why hasn’t anybody ever told me about this before? This is incredible! Think of the possibilities.”
“Knock it off,” warned Jack.
“No, really. This is perfect for you. You have latent homosexual tendencies. You’re subconsciously
attracted to the penis but you’re conditioned to be attracted to pussy. So you resolve the conflict by
finding the one person who has one of each.”
“Leave the pop psychiatry to someone with a brain.”
“When are you going to come to grips with your true nature? You keep looking for happiness in the
inside of a vagina. Trust me, you’ll never find it there.”
“According to you, I’ll find it in the inside of a penis.”
“Actually, it’s located on the surface of the penis, but that’s an entirely different matter. So what are
you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I’m working on it.”
Jack didn’t call. He didn’t know what to say. And as Lillith predicted, the longer he waited, the harder
it became to pick up the phone. He missed Lillith terribly and thought of calling her often. But he
knew a telephone call would lead to a meeting and a meeting would lead to more and eventually he
would be forced to look at Lillith’s freakish sex organs. So he stayed home and suffered.

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Jack’s relationship with Randy also began to deteriorate. He no longer shared Randy’s interest in sex.
Jack told himself that he wanted only Lillith but in truth, he had nightmares. In his dreams, Jack was
gently kissing the neck and breasts of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was seductively
dressed in matching cream coloured bra and panties. The nightmare always ended with the woman
pulling down her panties to reveal a shriveled penis. So Jack lost interest in chasing women and Randy
lost his source of sexual anecdotes of the heterosexual variety. Without this common bond, Jack lost
patience with Randy’s many idiosyncrasies. The two roommates began to arrange their lives so that
they were rarely in their apartment at the same time.
If Jack had been a poet, he would have written a bittersweet poem of lost love. If he had been a
songwriter, he would have written a Country classic. But Jack was a lawyer, so he filled his empty
spaces with the practice of law. Jack discovered what married men have known for centuries, being a
workaholic is both a symptom and cure for a boring sex life. He devoted himself to his work, put in
long hours and pursued new clients with the tenacity previously reserved for the pursuit of women.
Where he used to see every woman as a possible sex partner, he now saw every man and woman as a
possible client. By the end of the year, he had tripled his monthly income and was considering moving
to a more luxurious apartment, without Randy.
It was late December when a handsome woman, in her early sixties, entered his office.
Jack looked up from his desk. “Hello, Can I help you?” he asked.
“You don’t remember me?” The woman feigned injury.
“Give me a hint.”
“We met at Pandora’s Cup last year. You gave me your business card.”
“Oh, right. The judge’s wife. Uhm . . .”
“Ruth Elliot.” Ruth offered her hand.
“Right. Ruth, I’m sorry. I meet so many people.” The couple shook hands.
“I’m sure you do.” she replied with a lurid smile as she took a seat on the client side of Jack’s desk.
“As I recall, you threw away my card.”
“That didn’t mean that I didn’t read it first.”
“Well, I’m glad that you did. What can I do for you?”
“Do you handle divorces?”
“Yes I do. Will you be the client?”
Ruth nodded in agreement.
“I’m so sorry. This must be a difficult time for you.”
“I should have done it long ago. I put up with a lot. I don’t blame him for sleeping with other woman.
I got what I wanted out of the relationship. He provided us with a nice social position and a
comfortable lifestyle.”
“So what happened?”
“Harold is retiring. I don’t care what he does at the office but I have no interest in watching him chase
women from home.” Despite herself, Ruth eye’s began to well up with tears.
“Will this be an amicable divorce?”

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“No.”
“Ruth, I appreciate the business but why come to me? Your husband is going to be using some high
priced talent. You must know a hundred better lawyers than me.”
“Yes, but I think you can offer me a little something extra.”
Jack’s sexual radar had atrophied over the past year. “Like what?” he asked, densely.
“In the coffee shop you seemed interested in me . . . physically.”
“Oh.” Jack paused, embarrassed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Something has changed. What is it? Don’t you find me attractive anymore?”
“Believe me, I find you as attractive as ever. It’s just that I don’t do that sort of thing anymore.”
“Did you meet a girl?”
“Yes.”
“Is she young?”
“Yes.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Yes and no.”
“Are you being true to her?”
“In a way.”
Ruth sighed and accepted her defeat with good grace. “I’ll tell you this. You must be the only man
I’ve ever met that didn’t want another woman on the side.”
Jack returned home late expecting to find the apartment empty. Randy wasn’t the type to sit home
watching television. But instead he found Randy sitting at the kitchen table excitingly flipping through
a loose leaf binder.
“I finished my story,” said Randy.
“What story?” asked Jack.
“You know I was writing a novel. Well, I finished it. It actually ended up being a novella but I think
it’s pretty good, if I do say so myself. Do you want to read it?”
“No.”
“Please.” begged Randy.
“I’m not in the mood. I’ve been reading briefs all day. I just want to flop down in front of the TV and
then go to bed. Maybe another time.”
“Can I at least tell you what it’s about?”
“Go ahead.” said Jack, expecting the worse.
“I call it The End of Sex. It’s the story of a young man trapped in a woman’s body. Except the man is a
homosexual. So anyway, she works in a gay nightclub as a female impersonator and everyone thinks
she’s a man dressed up as a woman but she’s really a woman dressed up as a man dressed as a woman.”
“I get it,” said Jack hoping to speed up the story.

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“So anyway, Ethel. That’s her name. Ethel is saving her money for a sex change operation but she’s
very poor and the operation is very expensive. She’s real unhappy because she only likes gay men
because, you know, she’s gay herself, but no gay man will have sex with her because they only want to
have sex with men and she’s a woman.”
“Wait a minute. What difference does it make if she has sex with a gay or a straight man? They both
have a penis. A man is a man.”
“Are you ever naive. Of course there’s a difference. A homosexual isn’t just a man who prefers other
men; it’s an entirely different sex unto itself. In fact there are thirteen different sexes. Straight men,
gay men, straight women, spinsters . . .”
“Alright, alright. Just get on with the story.”
“So one day a guy comes into the club. His name is Barry and, you’ll love this part, he’s a bisexual
lawyer. Ethel does her Judy Garland number from Meet Me in St. Louis and Barry falls madly in love
with her. He takes Ethel out and she likes him but she’s afraid to tell him she’s a girl but it turns out
that it doesn’t matter to Barry because he’ll have sex with a woman.”
“Wait a minute. I thought that Ethel would only have sex with a homosexual?”
“Barry is a homosexual.”
“I thought he was bisexual.”
“He’s a gay bisexual. Can I go on?”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“So they fall in love but Ethel is unhappy because she wants to be a man. Oh, I forgot the best part,
Barry has a pet mule.”
“How the hell do you keep a mule as a pet?”
“He’s got a big backyard because he’s a workaholic and is really rich.”
“But why would anyone want to keep a mule as a pet?”
“It’s symbolism, man. Let me finish. So Barry is rich and offers to pay for the operation. Not only
that but since he’s bisexual, gay bisexual, he figures that he’ll donate his penis, take Ethel’s vagina and
become a woman. So they swap sex organs except Barry’s body rejects Ethel’s vagina and he is left
without any sex organs at all. Ethel feels bad and by this time she’s deeply in love with Barry so to
keep him company she chops off her new penis and they both live happily ever after with no sex at all.”
Randy paused waiting for a reaction from Jack. “So, what do you think?”
“That’s the worst story I’ve ever heard. Not only that, but that’s not the way sex change operations
work. They don’t transplant sex organs between people, they construct them out of the patient’s own
tissue.”
“It’s not intended to be realistic. It’s a metaphor. You just don’t get it.”
“I get it. I get it.”
“Why don’t you just call her?”
“Who?”
“You know who. Lillith, that’s who.”

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“Mind you own business. And don’t use my life for your perverted little stories anymore. The only
saving grace is that nobody will ever publish it.”
The new year was being ushered in with an old fashioned snow storm. Jack was home alone watching
the storm rage outside his window. His mind wandered back to Lillith. He wondered if she was one of
Randy’s thirteen sexes. The End of Sex, indeed. What a stupid story! But a life without sex was
possible. He was living proof. He had been too busy to even masturbate. It occurred to Jack that he
had forgotten what he was afraid of. If both he and Lillith were comfortable being celibate, what was
the problem?
Jack picked up the phone and dialed Lillith’s number. A recording informed him that the number was
out of service. Jack decided to see for himself. He put on his winter things, got into his car and drove
through the storm to Lillith’s apartment. Lillith’s name was no longer on the building’s directory. Jack
got back into his car and drove Hagar’s house.
Ishmael stood vigil on the front porch. Jack knocked on the front door.
“Hello Jack.” said Hagar as she opened the door. “Come in.”
“Hello Hagar.” he said as he kissed Hagar on the cheek. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been well. You’re here about Lillith. I’m sorry, she died two months ago.”
Jack stopped. The news hit him like a fist. Hagar took him in her arms and joined him in tears. “What
happened?” Jack asked in a timid voice.
“Testicular cancer. There was always a danger. She went fast.”
“What do I do now?” asked Jack helplessly.
“You spend the night.”
Jack spent more than the night. After a week, he drove back to his apartment to get his things and let
Randy know that he was moving in with Hagar. After one month, they were expecting their first child.
Jack didn’t care if it was a girl or a boy but both he and Hagar were hoping that it would have a little
something extra on the side.

A Little Something Extra Page: 22 on the

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