88 pearls around the neck
a remote control with 10 different functions. This remote control can be operated 20 feet away from you.”
The noisy audience had become speechless.
And then, quickly recovering from the shock, burst into applause, hurrahs and joyful screeches, the acrylic
penis suddenly falling out of favor was trampled underfoot by women hugging in a flurry of checks written
right on the spot… Pray God that Gwenn brought enough Turn Me On Panties! “What a night!” Penny
called. “Aren’t you getting anything?” Krivia asked. “How long have you been married to the same man?”
Marcy asked. “Seven years? Here, you’d better take my card” Gwenn replied, “you’ll be calling me in about
six months.”
I grabbed a box of Turn Me on Panties and started reading the user instructions. Fascinating. Shirley,
already addicted to ‘Please Yourself, Fantasy Inc.’ products, tore the box out of my hands, saying that she’d
wear them the following day at the cocktail for The Nutcracker’s opening night. I could already picture the
scene. She would be wearing the panties. Gary, her husband (as well as former football player and current
V.P. of a tobacco company) having placed the remote control in his tuxedo pocket. They would go to the
posh, uptight cocktail party and while she’d sip her Margarita surrounded with work relations, he’d throw
her lustful looks and slowly increase the intensity. She would squirm slightly, unable to stop relentlessly
suckling on her cocktail’s maraschino cherry. Gary, somewhat drooling, would observe her from afar. Act 1,
scene 7 of The Nutcracker: the battle. While Clara starts the struggle with the Mouse King, Gary suddenly
would push the intensity way up and a shrill cry would arise from the eighth row: Shirley succumbing! The
Mouse King would die, and Tchaikovsky’s score would pick up with the overture in the orchestra’s high-
pitched register.
Or, then again, Gary could be in a bad mood. He could decide NOT to turn on the contraption for the
entire evening. She’d be casting begging looks and the guests would wonder at Gary’s cool domination
over his wife. But good god! Shirley looking at him imploringly all evening long? That would be downright
indecent! And so rare, here in the South, where women clearly have the upper hand. The men would invite
Gary out to the patio for a smoke during the intermission and ask him to share his secret. But Gary would
never, ever, tell that he had a remote control.
That was when a sentence printed on the Turn Me On Panties’ box suddenly came back to me:
“Gentleman, with great power comes great responsibility!”
I went back home that night in a state of utter confusion. Laughing and crying while driving my car, alone
in the street of Louisville, deserted after 11pm. When I arrived home, I threw myself into my husband’s
arms: “Tell me, hon, are you awfully bored in bed with me?” Answered the taken aback husband: “Where
on earth have you been tonight?” I didn’t answer right away; I went to the bathroom and confiscated
anything that could emit the slightest vibration: foot massaging device, electric toothbrushes, razors, and
trendy nail files. EVERYTHING is hidden away until further notice.
Author: Catherine Beeckman, KY, USA, 2002
English translator: Sylvie Froschl
Illustration: Catherine Beeckman
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