O Body Swayed to Music

At one time or another, I’ve made some small efforts toward moderation. When a pecan pie is in front of me, even a bad, cheap commercial one, those small inroads are gone, just gone. This is as close as I can come to a picture of naked desire. Flickr Image.

Read Part I, II, III, IV and V

VI

Pecan Pie

He didn’t appear to notice when she left the table for a rushed phone call to the young housewife in the condo adjacent to hers. Andrea and her husband lived beyond their means.

“Andrea, find the super and get a key to my place. Then go down to the Cornerstone bakery and get a pecan pie and a two-quart tub of their vanilla ice cream. I want the pie out of its tin and intact on a crystal stand and on my dining room table. If you break the pie getting it out, I’ll only pay you half.” Without this kind of specificity, Andrea would leave the pie on the kitchen counter in the bakery’s logo box.

“Why would the super give me a key?” Andrea never went with a concept. She only saw objections.

“Because you’re going to bribe him if you have to. Tell him it’s an emergency. You’ll clear a hundred dollars, if you do it right. Use your imagination. Have this done in twenty minutes. I’ll expect a text to confirm it.” Andrea had made overtures that she could make herself available as a personal assistant. Had it not been an emergency, Marlena wouldn’t call on her. The little beach blond was just too dumb and too disloyal ever to be relied upon. Aside from being devoid of any practical skills, she emanated a crude sexuality Marlena couldn’t use in her…