“How does your culture of independency make inroads against the global system?” Winnie probed.
“In order to prosper, the Independency movement, like all other social movements, needs a populace that is under terrible stress. Think of the civil rights movement. In order for the civil rights movement to succeed, it needed an entire people to get behind it, to lend it critical mass. For the idea of Independency to really catch fire, you need a population that is hurting and wants to explore an alternative to the existing social structure. I think some fraction of the middle class is already there, already ripe for change. They’re certainly buying my books.”
A waitress arrived at the table to see if they wanted a refill. They ordered another round of ale.
“Now the question is,” Abel continued, “are you ripe for change?”
“Me, change?”
“It’s your turn now. I’ve said my peace.”
“Do I need changing?”
“What I mean is, would you be attracted to a life at Independency, Minnesota?”
“You mean leave cosmopolitan Kansas City for the wilds of the north?”
Abel chuckled. “It’s not that wild. We tamed the West some time ago.”
“Oh, I’ve entertained the idea once or twice. My stay at your little town was more than a little inspiring. But to be honest with you, I have a career in K.C. I have obligations, of course, and several big projects to undertake at work. And, you know, we’ve known each other for a few weeks, really. We seem to have an attraction for each other, but we don’t have a relationship, at least not yet.”
“You’re brutally honest,” Abel sighed, as if crestfallen.
Winnie let fly a little laugh. “Besides, Abel, I’m going to be gone for a month.”
“Where are you off to?”
“I’m going to Montana on assignment.”
“Really. What are you going to be doing there?”
“There’s a large religious organization based there. I’m going to be working with them.”
“Who would that be?”
“Some sort of New Age Christian hybrid.”
“You’re not talking about the Ascendant Church of the Earth, are you?”
“Wow. Do you read minds, Abel?”
Abel launched his trademark grin across his face. “No, I can’t mind-read, but I have read a great deal about new spiritual communities and the Seer empire out there. Now that’s a curious mixture of New Age idolatry, evangelical Christian hard lining, survivalist rhetoric and flower power.”
“Thank you for that wonderful portrait,” Winnie said with playful sarcasm.
“What sort of work will you be doing for them?”
“They’re a good-sizeed far-flung organization with more than a few tentacles. Their data systems are from the dark ages. They can’t do what they want when they want it, so they’re seeking help, lots of it.”
“So you’re their salvation?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“So you work on a contractual basis?”
“In this case, yes.”
“What other sorts of clients do you work with?”
“Sometimes it’s a Fortune 500 firm, sometimes it’s Uncle Sam. It doesn’t matter to me, really, as long as the money is good.”
“Who in government?”
Without skipping a beat. “Many agencies, but I specialize a bit in criminal databases.” Winnie took a swig of her beer to hide her white lie.
Abel nodded in thought.
“Sometime in the fall, Abel, I’ll have quite a bit of time off. Would it be possible to pay an extended visit to Independency then?”
“That would be wonderful.”
“All right then, I’ll plan on it.”
Abel seemed pleased with her and with himself.
They left Buffalo Alice, strolled the city’s new riverside parklands and retreated to the Riverfront Marriott a mile away. Winnie led Abel to a river-view hot-tub suite on the top floor and immediately brought forth a fresh bottle of Courvoisier and two small cognac glasses. She poured out a dram each and they toasted one another.
“To one intriguing man,” Winnie purred.
“To one unconventional woman.”
They kissed, lips loose, mobile.
“This is a good night for this,” Winnie suggested.
“Why is that?”
She kissed Abel again, applying a bit more pressure. “Women are seawater, their hormones rise like the tides under the full moon. Eternal, moody, playful, daring.”
“I hadn’t heard you were a poet laureate or a Madison Avenue advertising copywriter.”
“Poets love a full moon. That’s why I chose a full moon weekend for our little rendezvous. We ladies, you have to understand, can get a bit randy under the full moon. We dress a little louder, tend to put on too much perfume, too much eye shadow, higher, sharper heels.”
“I thought women dressed for one another.”
“Well, yes, that’s true. Women look at other women and men look at women. But when we’re in the mood, you know, when the moon is full, we could scratch out any woman’s eyes. If we have a favorite man in mind, well, we run up all the signal flags.”
“And men? What do you think we do when the moon is up?”
Winnie laughed playfully. “You get it up with the moon.”
“Just with the moon?”
“Well, I’d have to say that for men, the moon doesn’t really matter so much. But when we girls are feeling the tug, you boys can’t be oblivious to it. Am I correct?”
“Mmm, yes and no. It depends on the age of the male.”
“How so?” Winnie sipped her cognac and gave Abel a peck.
“Well, if he’s sixteen, anything will trigger a response, anything at all. Never mind the moon. A glance at a certain girl in ninth grade math class will create pandemonium below the belt. You’ve got boys walking down hallways in every American school right now holding their math books close to the hip, shall we say.”
Winnie squealed with laughter. “Covering up?”
“Yes, covering up.”
“That’s hilarious.”
“In some tribal cultures in Africa, where strutting around naked is just how things are done, young men parade their little creations around for all to see.”
More laughter.
“But in western cultures, we hide our good upstanding intentions when we’re young. Girls have to guess the size of their man’s little marvel. In Africa, they can size them up right then and there. And size matters.”
“I’ve heard that.” she smiled.
“There was a study done—imagine writing a grant proposal to get funding to study penis-size preference?—that resulted in some interesting conclusions.”
“Oh, I’ll bet. Please tell.” Winnie went to the hot tub, seated herself on the edge and ran a hand into the warm brew.
“In many tribal cultures, women prefer to choose mates who are well endowed. Now imagine, this has been going on for 200,000 years. The girls have been selecting for larger penis size for 10,000 generations. Over time, more male babies are born with larger penises. Overall penis size in the species increases. And, voila, there you have it, humans are the primate with, by far, the largest such organ of the whole hairy bunch. And it was all the girls’ doing.”
“Of course it was. We know a good thing when we see it.”
It was Abel’s turn to splinter apart with laughter. He joined her on the edge of the hot tub, placed a finger to her neck and stroked her lightly.