ISBN: 9781620957691

1

FINDING ECSTASY

Adrienne’s life in Amsterdam was little more than typical for any single woman of 28. She frequented a few pubs and knew enough of the regulars there to spend a few hours drinking, flirting, or going dancing at a disco with cohorts from the bar. You Can Go Your Own Way, sang Fleetwood Mac on their album Rumours released that year; the song reflected her thoughts perfectly in 1977.

Things were easy in the quiet beauty of Amsterdam’s canal district. Adrienne felt confident walking home after a night out, but mostly she bicycled, no matter the time of close—Amsterdam was very safe.

Yet, something was missing in her life. Her vacations were exciting enough, although she had a bit of a job finding a travelling companion. She had seen so much of the continent that she could not think of any particular place she wanted to visit. She had seen pretty much all that she’d care to see of the European landscape.

Most of her friends had found love. Every year she had fewer single friends to join her for a night on the town on the spur of the moment—partners and kids having appeared on the scene—so she was generally bar-hopping alone, visiting the regular places, meeting her café contacts there.

She had survived two long-term relationships, or more accurately, medium-term relationships: four years with each partner had seemed all she could handle. In the end, the results had been unsatisfactory. Her last boyfriend, Ethan, had broken her heart a few years back, and she had needed time to recover from that disaster. He might have been the reason she had decided to remain single.

Adrienne’s strict religious upbringing had completely lacked any kind of formal sexual education, not even within the school system. Combine that with a fear for pregnancy closer to a phobia, and anyone might probably understand what had prevented her from experimenting much with sexuality before meeting Ethan. In fact, her ingenuousness and worrying had also seriously affected her first relationship, with Harry.

She had met Harry, when she was still in high school; he was an interesting man in his late twenties and called himself a poet. The year was 1969. Harry took her under his wing, was gentle with her and did not demand much. Harry had shoulder-long dark, curly hair, big brown eyes and at various times sported some facial hair as well. He seemed to be respected by his friends, always seeking his advice on many issues. Her parents refused to meet Harry, as they saw him as a danger to their daughter’s future; they called him a hippy. Through her choice to date him and later, to start living together, she alienated her parents from her, as they thought this conduct was completely unacceptable.

Harry also introduced her to the Dutch Association for Sexual Reform, NVSH in Dutch, which provided birth control services to its members. The membership fee was low, subsidized by the general health care plan; it was set low intentionally, so anybody could access birth control without further costs and there would, hopefully, be fewer teen pregnancies in the country. Before the Pill, Adrienne had always stopped her boyfriends from going beyond heavy petting in stolen moments and had never allowed going all the way. Pregnancy was Adrienne’s great fear, as it was for any girl at that time. It was the great shame people whispered about in her school and in her church community, leading to the end of any future, for a girl. Although abortion was an option, and legal, it was still difficult to access. Not many young women knew how to get one, afraid to ask their family doctor. Common gossip was: “Have you heard? So and so has to get married.” Has meant, she is pregnant. A wedding was mandatory. If she were not married, the shame would be unfathomable.

It was not the life to which Adrienne aspired; she had seen enough of her parents’ life and saw that her mom had been stuck, unhappily married without an escape route, raising five children. Adrienne wanted to avoid intercourse and pregnancy at all costs. That strong negative connection between the two events had not faded when she started taking the pill around her eighteenth birthday.

After graduation, Adrienne took a job in Amsterdam where she lived with Harry for four years. In the years with him, their sex life left much to be desired. Although Harry was kind and patient with her, she was never on fire with him. For Adrienne, the concept of pleasure needed a few more years to develop.

Ethan had come onto Adrienne’s path as a casual, single friend of one of her coworkers, Lana. They both worked at the radiology department of a large university hospital, a job occupied mostly by single female technicians. The radiologists on the floor were all male and without exception, married. Adrienne and a few of her colleagues set up an organizing committee to attract some potential escorts for the ladies for their annual radiology party.

At that time, sex between Adrienne and Harry had pretty much become a chore by then. However, they were very comfortable, like brother and sister, and completely open with each other. Their NVSH sexual therapist finally suggested that Adrienne seek a new lover, to spark her appetite.

With Harry’s approval and Lana as her co-conspirator, the occasion was set: the work party might lead to that chance encounter with a dark and handsome stranger who would sweep Adrienne off her feet and lead her to ecstasy.

The committee placed an advertisement in the personals section of a local newspaper: Seeking bachelors to join a party of health professionals. A large number of responses with photos brought much pre-party fun to the ladies in charge; they invited the most handsome applicants. Surprisingly, they all arrived on the designated night. Lana had another surprise for her.

“Hey, Adrienne, guess what? I know you like Ethan, I have invited him.”

At the party, Adrienne realized that she’d always been attracted to Ethan and that he was now within reach. The intent to take the initiative towards a closer relationship firmed up in her mind, when she saw Eva, another co-worker, firmly planted on Ethan’s lap, apparently there to stay. Eva was at the party with her boyfriend, who was occupied with somebody else.

“Hey Ethan, feel like checking out the food with me?” Adrienne asked. Ethan seemed glad to be rescued, as Eva was a woman of size.

“Yes, sure, good idea. Hey, Eva, want my seat? I want to get up.”

The rest of that night was enjoyable, exciting even, the close interactions with Ethan stirring up a sensuality Adrienne had not experienced before. Eva, Lana and Adrienne retired to Lana’s place, each with their mates of the evening.

Lana lived in a rented apartment on the top floor of a four-storey apartment building typical for New West Amsterdam where the attic floors were converted to apartments. Lana’s was a cozy home under the eaves, with mattresses on the floor for seating and lacy scarves draped over the two floor lamps, softening the mood. They danced, drank, and danced some more, joked around, chatted and made out with their respective partners till the early morning hours.

Eventually, things slowed down and everybody ended up on the floor. Adrienne enjoyed the physical closeness and playfulness with Ethan; it felt so natural to be with him.

When she returned home to Harry the next morning, she told him of her experiences. Harry seemed fine and was happy for her, he said. Harry was a free thinker and a proponent of the sexual revolution, with a vested interest in Adrienne’s liberation.

The following months with Ethan were a sexual discovery trip for Adrienne. He was gentle, sexy and kind of shy, but naughty and sweet at the same time. His body was sleek and hairless, tanned, and a source of complete pleasure for Adrienne. She could not get enough of his beautiful face. White, straight teeth illuminated sparkling eyes each time Ethan smiled.

Adrienne fell for him hard. They were like two naughty children, exploring each other’s possibilities; their interactions were a world away from anything she had experienced with Harry. She had found the fire of ecstasy. She, Harry and Ethan even had a threesome, inspired by a strip poker game to get things started much to Adrienne’s uninhibited delight.

This happy triangle could not last, of course. Adrienne wanted to be with Ethan all of the time, while Harry began to feel left out and less appreciated, as Adrienne spent so much time away from home.

When conflicts and angry words became the main course, Adrienne decided to move out. She stayed at her sister’s place for a short time while Josee was travelling abroad for a few months.

Adrienne felt sad for having to leave Harry, who always had been kind and generous to her. They maintained a friendship, until he met a girl from England. Harry and his new partner had two children within a very short time.

Ethan and Adrienne decided that she should move in with him at his flat in Leiden, an hour’s drive from Amsterdam. His student buddies in the flat had been curious and friendly to Adrienne. Ethan’s father financed his studies and his cost of living in the residence, as he didn’t qualify for bursaries and student loans due to his dad’s income.

Ethan was the eldest son of a candle manufacturer. His father’s business was growing very fast, as candles were becoming the new luxury item that everybody could afford—and wanted. As supplier of candles and incense to the Roman Catholic churches, the business had always had a guaranteed sales volume anyway.

Ethan’s father seemed to spend the business profits freely on the whole family for things like expensive clothes and a vacation home with a yacht in the southwest--Dutch cottage country. Ethan’s dad often took the family to renowned restaurants to give the children an education on fine dining and etiquette, so they would be able to move comfortably in the upper class social circles in their anticipated, successful careers. During the four years with Ethan, Adrienne developed her tastes for gourmet foods and other refined social experiences.

Ethan had felt torn about his father’s involvement and strong influence in his life: he felt the strings attached to his privileged life acutely. His father did not approve Ethan’s choice of psychiatry as his preferred, future specialty. His father demanded that his son follow his dress code (jacket and tie), especially when business associates were invited for a family dinner and the children’s presence was requested. Ethan was not able to stand up to his father and often caved in to his demands.

Adrienne tried to support Ethan whenever she could. She once called his father on his use of unfair, emotional blackmail tactics, such as when he would place a hand on his heart when facing opposition from Ethan, stating he wasn’t feeling well, obviously referring to his heart problems. Ignoring his manipulation, she would just cut to the chase and confront him: “Are you disagreeing, or do you want to tell us something?”

Adrienne soon realized she was not considered good enough for the stringent father’s son. The family was politically conservative and had close ties to the clergy. The local parish priest was a family friend. Adrienne and Ethan were living together, were obviously also having premarital sex, and using birth control, to boot: mortal sins. His parents pressured them to get married anyway, even if they thought she was not the best candidate for Ethan; it was the least of two evils.

Ethan’s parents were quite old-fashioned. Their views were quite like Adrienne’s parents’ Protestant beliefs and their children’s lives were a blemish on their good names. Adrienne often felt like she had jumped from the frying pan of Harry into the fire of Ethan.

Now that Adrienne was included in the family fold, to a certain extent, she was advised how to conform: her skirt should be longer, her make-up less, her communication style more subdued and so on. Once, Ethan’s dad offered her a cheque to buy a nice dress for a particularly important occasion. Adrienne accepted the cheque, bought an acceptable frock, took scissors to it and converted it from a knee-length dress to a hip mini skirt. After all, she was studying to become a designer and was handy with the scissors. That cured Ethan’s dad from providing her again with any clothing advice, or funds.

When his dad’s conservative views and prescriptions became too ridiculous, Adrienne felt like spilling the beans about what Ethan had disclosed to her about a family friend--the priest--to shake up things a little, but she never did. Ethan had told Adrienne in strictest confidence about his experiences with the trusted pastor.

“My parents often invited Father John for dinner. After dinner he used to ask me to go upstairs to my bedroom, for him to take my confession. My parents did not mind and encouraged us: it would save me a trip to church, in case I needed to do homework. They thought it was nice of Father to do that as personal favour to the family.”

“That is so weird!” Adrienne exclaimed.

“Wait till you hear the rest. He then wanted me to tell him what in particular I had sinned about and then he asked me whether I masturbated—touched myself in sin, he said. Next he wanted me to show him how, and then he would masturbate himself, while I showed him how I masturbate.”

“Wow, that is sexual abuse!” she replied. “Did you ever tell your parents? Why did you even go upstairs with him; couldn’t you say, No, I am not going?”

“No, I could not refuse; they would not believe me if I had told. Father John said he would deny everything.”

“How long did this go on?”

“Not that long. Eventually I got smarter and stayed with a friend, when I knew he was coming for dinner.”

This priest, of course, was also involved in the business end of the family’s firm. Ethan made Adrienne swear not to say anything about it to his parents. Adrienne had been concerned about repercussions of this silence that may affect his brothers, as his youngest brother was still only eleven.

“Did he do that to your brothers, too?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“How do you know? Did you ask them?”

“I asked them whether they went upstairs with Father for confession, without talking about what happened to me; they said they never had. But, yes, it’s wrong. I don’t think he comes to the house very often anymore. He is probably afraid I’m going to say something to my parents.”

Adrienne ‘s life was hectic, traveling three times a week by train to Amsterdam to attend her fine arts classes. From eight in morning to three in the afternoon, she worked at the Holiday Inn motel. In her down time, she had school assignments to complete. Most nights she cooked a meal for Ethan and herself before she left for school on the evening train.

Ethan studied for his exams, attended lectures, and towards the end of their relationship, after completing his doctorate studies, he worked at his internship at the university hospital. They both had busy lives.

Adrienne and Ethan moved from their student flat into an attic floor across the road, formerly occupied by Adrienne’s eldest sister, Margaret. They enthusiastically decorated this much larger and cozier space under the eaves in typical sixties style: a large poster hung on the wall of the staircase depicting a girl in Day-Glo colours, sporting an Angela Davis Afro and wearing a mini-dress; she was seated on the floor, smoking a large joint. A black light on the wall above the poster revealed its fluorescent psychedelic properties.

They bought a few large tropical plants that were happy in the low light from the two small windows in opposite ends of the vaulted roof. They painted the walls and the roof timbers orange and yellow to lighten up the dark space and installed a set of double fluorescent lights in the highest point of the rafters, shielding the light’s harshness with a thin cotton sheet suspended in the air across the space, by way of a second ceiling nailed to the cross beams. In a corner, Ethan’s desk and chair comprised the study nook, receiving daylight from the only decent size, dormer window.

They owned no couches or easy chairs and used mattresses on the floor for seating. Their homemade double bed stood in the centre of the space, shielded from view by a large curtain attached to the rafters. The kitchen consisted of a sink in a corner with a large, square table with a vinyl covering functioned next to it as the countertop; some crates were stacked against the wall to hold pots, pans, and plates—the bare necessities. Adrienne had found an old-fashioned buffet, with sliding glass doors that she had painted white; it became their china cabinet. A large collection of vinyl records and Ethan’s prized possession—an expensive stereo—completed the interior. This was their home for nearly three years.

Then Ethan won the residence lottery: the student housing cooperative awarded them a little two-story student home, located in a restored, 17^th century court complex with small, individual houses situated around a common court yard, located in the heart of the city along the old town’s canals. Originally, the complex had been built for retired nuns, beguines, a religious order established in the late Middle Ages. As Ethan and Adrienne were now registered as a couple, Ethan’s space requirement had increased. It was a lovely place, bright and tastefully renovated; Adrienne was very, very pleased.

When Ethan started his internship at the hospital, the stage where quite a few medical students dropped out, things had gotten tougher for him as well. Three of his friends couldn’t cope because of their drug use. Up to that point, most in their social circle had smoked copious amounts of marijuana, taken acid and some other drugs as well--generally uppers and downers--without too many consequences. The increased responsibilities, that included now real people as the objects of their studies and their late work hours with very little sleep, added much pressure to the interns’ lives and strained their resilience to the max.

Ethan and Adrienne had stopped taking LSD after three trips together and gradually had stopped smoking pot as well. By the time of their move into the fancy courtyard home, they were very productive and clean Dutch citizens.

Adrienne felt that Ethan had become much more restrained and sombre. His pot was gone, but he was drinking more. The gap was growing wider between them. His new friends were more conservative, many of them members of the ultra-conservative Student Corps, instituted at the end of the 18^th century in the old town of Leiden, the centre of the conservative academia in the Netherlands. Its motto is Virtus Concordia Fides—We are the best of the best.

Adrienne did not feel welcome at Student Corps social gatherings. They did not know how to relate to her, so they soon shunned her, a colourful, bohemian art student, very different from them. She felt like a stranger in a strange land. She wore sexy minis with homemade knits in daring colour combinations, her hair hennaed red. She stood out like a sore thumb in the traditional environment, not wearing the presumed penny loafers, natty skirts, expensive cashmere wool twin set sweaters accompanied by matching pearl earrings and necklaces.

Adrienne was relieved when she and Ethan decided to go on a deserved vacation to the south of France. She was looking forward to getting away from all of the university’s trappings and having time alone with her partner.

They traveled by train to the south of France and hitchhiked for short day trips to stick to their tiny budget. They brought a tent and backpacked it, cooking most of their simple meals on a one-burner propane stove. Adrienne and Ethan learned that the south of France had become the exclusive destination for the wealthy. They couldn’t afford to eat out and taste the scrumptious dinners their noses caught wind of, and only could eyeball the delicacies in the restaurants’ showcase windows with watering mouths. Groceries were expensive; even tomatoes were a luxury.

But the sunshine, the gorgeous views from the cliffs with the glittering, azure-blue Mediterranean Sea lounging back into the horizon, were priceless, and the aromatic eucalyptus trees wafted upon gentle breezes for free--dollops of soothing balm upon their scabbed psyches.

Trying to make the best of it, they looked for low cost activities. Adrienne and Ethan made their way to the Ile de Levant, a nudist island off the south coast of France. The short but lovely ferry ride in the breeze on an open boat took them to the sand-rimmed jewel off the coast.

Dutch people were used to tanning topless in pools and on beaches. In fact, the culture of nudism was widespread over all of Europe, with colonies established in exquisite geographic locations, havens for naturalists and the health-conscious. Nudity was mandatory on the beaches of Ile de Levant. It was easy for Adrienne and Ethan to undress while walking towards the beach areas off the main rocky path that wound itself over the length of the isle.

“Wow, this is absolutely beautiful. I am so glad we came here,” she said.

“Yes, it is. Are you hungry or do you want to swim first?”

“Let’s have a swim and relax on the beach for a while.”

The path from the ferry landing to the beach was the designated boundary for undressing and exhibited a large sign that read, Mandatory nudity on the beach areas. Clothing required on the access road.

Most visitors walking on the access road, or path, indeed kept their clothes on, as Adrienne and Ethan observed.

“Why would you think that rule is there?”

Her question was answered when they saw a burly man in his thirties haul a dolly stacked high with crates and boxes along the bumpy path, occasionally leaning over to one side to see what was ahead of him while on his way to the cafés on the beach. It was obvious the rule was intended to protect delivery staff, nudity being a rather impractical and somewhat dangerous state while working: some sensitive body part could easily be caught between crates, dollies or other hard places.

Adrienne and Ethan both paraded around in the nude, confident in their skin; they took a swim. They tanned a bit, and then took in a simple lunch at one of the beach restaurants. It was soon time to return to the ferry back to the mainland. The pair had hardly spoken to each other all day, each enjoying the beauty, solemnity and peace. Although the island was quite crowded, people were enjoying nature without radios. The odd laugh and calls from children playing only seemed to enhance the tranquil setting—add to the oneness of simply being.

While on their return trek from the beach, Ethan soon broke the peace that had baked into them so gently. He insisted on staying completely nude while walking on the path, flaunting his body with visible enjoyment on the way back to the ferry. For the bohemian artist, shunned by Ethan’s peers—it was unacceptable and she felt suddenly irritated, challenged.

“I guess you must feel pretty good wanting to stay naked on the path; the rule is to get dressed here,” she commented, hoping he would stop his naked parade.

“Oh well, that is no law, just an ordinance. I feel better naked.”

“I just knew you were a closet exhibitionist,” she replied.

“Why does it bother you so much? Is it because you can’t control me and I do what I want? If you don’t like it, walk somewhere else.”

“No, it’s because you don’t think of others—only Ethan’s little, narrow world.”

The peaceful beach side apex went downhill from that point and soon they were embroiled in another argument about nothing. It was to be one of their final disagreements. Adrienne had had enough. Ethan was unreceptive to her feelings—her wishes. She felt rejected and rejected him in turn. She did not know how to get back to that place, when they first met and their early love life and were considerate of each other’s wishes.

“I am spending the rest of the day by myself and see you back at the tent tonight. I am sick of fighting.”

“Great!” he said.

Back on the ferry, Ethan disappeared to another deck. That night, returning to their tent alone, she waited for him, wondering if anything had happened, whether she should be worried. Finally he arrived very late. He reeked of liquor upon entering the tent. They did not speak; Adrienne pretended to be asleep.

The next day was a French holiday: Le Quatorze Juillet, the 14^th of July—Bastille Day, signalling the start of the French Revolution when the citizens of Paris had stormed the Bastille prison in 1789 to free its political prisoners, all of seven, marking the end of the monarchy and the start of the first republic under the values of Liberte, Equalite, Fraternite—Freedom, Equality and Brotherhood.

“How appropriate for the holiday,” Adrienne thought later when she learned of Ethan’s activities the night before.

The morning had seen a bright sun rising, warming the tent and the grass; dew sparkled on individual blades. It had promised to be a great day. A fresh scent of thyme and lavender permeated the slow breeze. Ethan and Adrienne did not discuss it, but each had decided to make it a good day.

“Good morning,” greeted Ethan.

“Good morning. How was your afternoon? I wondered what happened to you last night.”

“I was okay; I went into town. What shall we do today? Would you like to go and see what’s going on in town today? It’s our last day here.”

“Sure, that’s good idea. We can get some fresh croissants for a change; it’s worth it.”

They planned the day together and decided to check out what festivities the town offered for the holiday celebration of independence to its citizens and invading tourists.

They had their breakfast of coffee and croissants and wandered through the town, eventually arriving at the marketplace. The music was playing and people were dancing, the wine already flowing. The improvised dance floor was crowded, easy to dance on and Ethan and Adrienne joined in with the crowd.

Suddenly, Ethan was grabbed from behind by a young woman with long, auburn hair, who, when Ethan turned around, threw her arms around him and started kissing him full on the mouth with a passionate kiss. He kissed back. Another girl, a blonde, stood beside them, then joined in. They did not seem to notice Adrienne. Ethan made no effort to introduce her.

It was too much for Adrienne; she was frozen to the spot. She finally took a hold of herself and walked off the dance floor, finding a seat on the patio of one of the restaurants surrounding the market square.

She watched the trio, gesticulating in an animated conversation, the kissing girls now all over Ethan, arms around his waist, not letting him go. This went on for no more than five minutes, but to Adrienne it seemed endless.

Her heart was beating in her throat watching the scene, tears prickling in her eyes; she wanted to cry. She wasn’t sure whether she should intervene, walk away, ignore the whole thing, but the anger continued to rise in her heart. What the hell was happening here? Did he know those girls? How had Ethan kept this a secret? How long had this been going on?

The girls then started to leave, both first embracing and kissing Ethan again; the girl with the long hair spent many more kisses than the other. The redhead watched Ethan walking towards Adrienne and taking the empty seat beside her; then she disappeared in the crowd together with the blonde.

“I met these girls last night in a café and we talked and partied together. They are from Paris and on a vacation just like us.”

“Is that why you were so late last night?”

“Yes. I had fun in town.”

“How could you? I was worried about you when you didn’t come back. Something could have happened.”

“Nothing would have happened. I was sick and tired of us fighting and didn’t want to be with you.”

“Why did you not introduce me to them?”

“I didn’t think of it.”

“Now what? What are we going to do?”

“We better pack up and go home, so we can catch the train later today. We will be home early.”

So they did. The rest of the day was spent in silence as neither spoke beyond what was necessary. On their arrival back in Leiden after a long train ride, Adrienne knew the end of their life together was near. During the following week, it became clear—it was over. She wouldn’t be able to trust Ethan again. Her life in Amsterdam was so much different than his. “Ethan. I think it would be easier for both if I just left,” she said. He agreed, although she wished he had protested.

So she did. She packed up her most needed things and arranged with a friend in Amsterdam for a place to stay. She told Ethan that she would retrieve her other things later, when she had found her own housing. He seemed relieved.

Once back in Amsterdam, she soon secured a place for a year, house sitting for a mutual friend who was planning to travel in India. Adrienne gladly accepted the offer. She was too busy to spend much time thinking about what had happened between her and Ethan.

She rented a van with a driver to pick up her belongings that had been left in Leiden. She had called Ethan a few days earlier with a date that would be convenient for her, but he did not get back to confirm as promised. She went ahead anyway.

It was a typically dreary fall day. When it rains in the west, it rains for days on end, even months. Fall and winter are but long periods of clammy, chilled-to-the-bone days that will never to lead to spring. Overcast skies and blustery winds were appropriate for Adrienne this year—they matched her cloudy future and windblown life course. It rained all the way from Amsterdam to Leiden. Moving in that weather would not be nice, Adrienne anticipated.

The driver entered the property, turning onto the courtyard on Adrienne’s direction, stopping in front of the little house. Adrienne could not believe what she saw. Her furniture and precious possessions sat on the yard’s cobblestones, some covered by a plastic sheet, others strewn about with little care. Her reclaimed second-hand furniture, refinished and re-upholstered, her artwork, her sewing materials and equipment, her school books, knick-knacks and dinnerware, pots, everything were out in the rain and there was no sign of Ethan—not even a note.

The door of their little home was locked. The key she had in her hand did not work.

What a bastard, she thought. He changed the locks. She did not deserve this, as she had not made it difficult for Ethan at all. What in the world had she done to get this kind of treatment? How humiliating. She had heard rumours that Ethan already had a new girlfriend within a few weeks after her departure. Maybe that girl had put the fear in him that she would be difficult?

“Hey, how are you?”

The window above her opened and their neighbour stuck his head out.

“Hi, nice to see a friendly face. Do you know where Ethan is? I came to pick up my stuff. I see he could not wait for me to arrive.”

“No, I have no idea where he is, sorry.”

“Never mind, I’ll get it out of here, wet and all. Say good-bye to him for me.”

“Okay, will do. Good luck, Adrienne.”

“Thanks, see you.”

It took some time before Adrienne could think back with any kind of objectivity. She had noticed that Ethan had kept anything of real value belonging to her. Etchings from a shared boxed collection, but only those by their friend--an established artist—vinyl records, gifts from others, as well as the artwork they had bought together. She concluded that he must have found her worthless to him, more of a burden than anything else; he had put her out, like one puts out the trash.

Ethan had turned from the youthful hippie and pretty boy into a calculating seeker of material things and conservative values, probably more fitting to his future status as a doctor. The new girl must fit right in—a preppy girl, she had heard. Adrienne’s only comfort was the thought that Ethan would surely get what he deserved in life one day.

She was disillusioned and humiliated. At least one positive thing she had learned from him: her discovery of sexual pleasure. She had to give him credit for helping her find ecstasy. Now she knew what to look for in a man, with one caveat—you never have a beautiful man to yourself.

Adrienne did not hear from Ethan for a full year.

Then, he had called and left a message.