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 "You don't know what you're getting into," Sheila said seriously, taking a
quick hit at her bourbon and ginger.

   She was, at least in my estimation, gorgeous.  Tall, perhaps five-eight
or nine, with a figure straight out of the pages of the finest of men's
magazines.  Her blonde hair waved softly across her nake shoulders.  Even
her fingers were long, delicate, perfect.  Her left eyebrow had a notch
that gave her an aire of mystery and intrigue.  Full lips, a straight nose,
and cobalt-blue eyes graced the face that could have launched thousands of
ships.  What she saw in me was a mystery in itself.

   "Are you married?" I asked.

   "Not anymore," she confessed.

   "Engaged?"

   She smiled.  "With you, right now, yes.  Otherwise..."

   "I mean formally," I pressed, somewhat testily.

   "No."

   "I like you, Sheila.  I like who you are, how you stoop to touch the
face of a child or pet a friendly dog.  I like your willingness to talk
with me on any subject.  And, I especially like the way you feel in my arms
when we dance."

   She shook her head.  "That's well and good," she answered.  "But it is a
little superficial, don't you think?"

   "It's a start," I noted.

   Three weeks.  We had bumped into each other, literally, coming out of an
Ancient Egyptian History class at the local community college.  I had seen
her across the room and was smitten with her beauty and poise.  The bumping
incident really was an accident.  It did, however, provide an opening for
an invitation to coffee.  Coffee led to an occasional lunch, and eventually
dinner.  The first dinner led to another, and a third, after which I
finally was able to hold this beauty in my arms as we slow danced to a
small jazz combo playing in the lounge.  This Wednesday evening was
cocktails to be followed by dinner.

   I was coming off a bad relationship in which my ex informed me that the
fire had gone out, and so had she.  Her interests had turned to a college
senior, someone closer to her age, whose equipment was adequate and
adoration devoted.  Truth was, I had actually become bored with her absurd
dedication to reality TV and desire to achieve some level of fame as a
hip-hop dancer.  She was, I decided, shallow and vapid, although she had a
killer body and fucked like a mink.  Still, sex was a weak foundation for a
relationship with someone virtually incapable of uttering a coherent
comment other than, "Oh, my God!" I watched her pack and helped her carry
her things to her Camry.

   The respite was not entirely welcome.  Although I enjoyed the serenity
of sleeping alone for a few weeks, I began to miss the stimulation of human
contact, especially of the feminine variety.  That's why I enrolled in the
history class.  Looking at the beauty before me, I decided it was worth
every penny of the five-hundred dollars tuition.

   For three weeks I had wooed Sheila.  Weary of the games associated with
establishing relationships, I confessed early on that I would be honest and
straightforward.  "I don't like mind games.  I promise to tell you what I
want, need, feel and desire.  All I ask is that you do the same."

   Sheila smiled slyly.  "Where's the fun in that?" she asked.

   "It's not fun," I said rather sternly, "it's manipulative.  I don't like
it and won't engage in it.  If that's what you want, then I've screwed up
once again." I prepared to leave.

   "Wait," she said, quickly.  "Don't."

   I set my keys back on the table.

   "You're so damned serious," she said.

   "About this, yes, I am," I responded.

   She looked at me for a long time, those cobalt-blue eyes searching my
face.  "I don't even know you," she said finally.  "But, I've got a
feeling. I'd really like to find out where this is going."

   "Me, too," I admitted.  "I told you I'd be honest with you."

   The cocktails were to precede a dinner at a high-end eatery.  We were
still in the process of discovery.

   My question hung in the air for long seconds.

   "Where are we heading, Sheila?  I'm beginning to have feelings for you
and I'd like to know if we're moving in the same direction."

   "You don't know what you're getting into," she finally answered.

   "Then, tell me, Sheila," I nearly begged.  "Tell me what I'm getting
into."

   "I can't, Brian," she said plaintively.  "If I tell you, you'll leave
me. I know you will.  That would hurt so much, I can't even bear to think
about it.  Please, can't we just go on like we are?"

   "That's bullshit, Sheila," I snapped.  "If we go on, I'm going to want
to hold you, to kiss you, to make love with you.  If this goes on I will
love you.  And, then, what?  Once I love you, will you tell me then?  If it
will make me leave now, what will keep me from leaving later when I know?"

   "Maybe," she whispered, a tear falling from her right eye, "Just maybe
you'll love me enough to stay."

   "Oh, Christ, Sheila!" I slammed out.  "What about the honesty?  What
about the truth?  Are you seriously planning to get your hooks in me and
then spring some surprise on me that will, I don't know, break my heart? 
Make me leave you?  Make me want to hurt you?  What?"

   "Stop it, Brian," she pleaded.  "I can't!  I won't.  You won't
understand.  You'll hate me.  God!  Don't you know?  Don't you know that I
already love you?  You're kind, gentle, serious, funny, strong and honest,
everything that I want and need.  I love you.  Okay?  Can't we just leave
it there?"

   I was stunned.  This angel, this picture of perfection, this intriguing,
interesting, educated and intellectual darling had just told me she loved
me.  In so short a time, though?  Was it possible?

   It was inappropriate, but beyond my control.  I began to laugh.  It
started as a small chuckle and developed, in spite of my best efforts to
hold it in, into a full-blown blast of laughter.  Sheila looked surprised
and a little angry.

   "I'm sorry," I stammered as the urge faded.  "I just couldn't help it."

   "You think it's funny?" Sheila was enraged.  "You think it's funny that
I love you?"

   "No, no, no," I protested, holding up a hand as if to fend off the waves
of anger flashing at me.  I took a deep breath.  "It was joy, Sheila. 
Really.  I've never been so delighted to hear anything in my life.  Or so
scared."

   "Scared," she said shortly.

   "Yes, scared," I repeated.  "I'm right here on the edge.  I'm ready to
go, ready to fall.  All I need is the reassurance that if I fall for you,
my feelings will be returned.  So, you announce you love me.  I can
release. I can let go.  I can fall in love with you and imerse myself in
you and your love."

   "Except," she whispered.

   "Except," I nodded.  "Except I don't know what I'm getting into. 
Sheila, the realization of all my dreams and desires, my Sheila who loves
me, Sheila, whom I desperately want to love, this Sheila has a secret."

   "I'm sorry," she sighed.

   "So am I, Sheila," I told her.

   We sat in silence for a few minutes.  Sheila looked up at me.  Her eyes
glistened.  She extended her hand to me, palm down.  "Come with me," she
ordered softly.

   "Where are we going?" I asked.

   "Just come with me," she directed.

   "We have reservations," I reminded her.

   "I'm not hungry," she said.  She led me to the parking lot and opened
the passenger-side door.  "Get in."

   I sat as she strode purposefully to the driver's side.  She slid into
the seat, exposing a tantalizing stretch of thigh.

   "Where are we going?" I repeated as Sheila pulled out of the parking lot
and drove quickly down the street.

   "My place," she told me.

   "Sheila," I began.  "I don't think this is a..."

   "At this point in our relationship," Sheila interrupted me, "I don't
really give a damn what you think.  I'm doing this because I want to.  So,
just shut up and enjoy the ride."

   There was steel in her voice, but her tone was still soft.  It was the
proverbial velvet hammer.

   Sheila pulled into a gated parking lot, swiping an access card and
locating a vacant space.  She wheeled in, parked, and opened the door. 
"Come on," she said.

   We walked silently to the entrance of the condo tower where Sheila again
swiped her card to gain access to the lobby.  As we waited for the
elevator, Sheila tapped the toe of her three-inch heel impatiently.  The
elevator doors opened and she took my arm, guiding me into the car.  She
pushed the button marked fifteen and the doors swooshed closed.

   Sheila turned to me.  "This is for me, Brian.  Aside from a goodnight
kiss, you've never indicate any physical desire for me.  You've been a
complete gentleman.  But, tonight it appears we're at a critical juncture.
Before we move on in this relationship, I want this."

   I shook my head slowly.  My mind was aswhirl with a kaleidescope of
varying thoughts and emotions.  I was nowhere near as distinguished and
suave as any man Sheila could have had with the simple crook of a finger.
She was, on the other hand, an absolute dream to look at, as well as being
intelligent, sharp as a well-honed blade, and secure in her own skin. 
Aside from what she had said in the bar, I was clueless as to what she saw
in me, what fired her attraction to me, indeed, what had led to her
assertion of love for me.

   We entered her condo by means of another swipe of her key card.  She
closed the door firmly behind her after ushering me inside.  The lights
were dim and the furnishings light.  A large glass access door to the
balcony allowed the lights of the city to gleam into the room.  There was a
feeling of openness and airy comfort.

   She purposefully placed the key card on a small table that led back to
the entrance alcove and turned to face me.  She stepped confidently into my
space, wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me to her for a kiss.
Fireworks would be an understatement.  My mind itself exploded with the
sensations of that kiss.  It was soft as silk, warm as a muffin, and
passionate as any lover's embrace.  She opened her lips and pressed her
tongue against mine, forcefully demanding entrance.  This was not merely a
kiss.  It was a statement of exploration and demand.  I felt completely
absorbed into this amazing woman, feeling her need and desire.

   "I knew it," she whispered after ending the kiss.  "I just knew it would
be like this." She leaned into me again, her lips pressing on my own.

   I couldn't resist the temptation to envelop her trim waist in my own
hands.  Her firm body felt smooth, soft, but resiliant under my fingers.  I
continued to marvel at her perfection.

   Sheila pulled back from me and looked into my eyes, her hands cupping my
face.  "I want you, Brian.  I want you in my bed and in my body."

   "Sheila," I hesitatingly stammered, "please."

   "Tell me you don't want me," she challenged, her eyes flashing.

   "You know better," I admitted.

   "Then come to my bed," she whispered.  "No strings, I promise.  Just
make love to me."

   "God!," I whispered back.  "I want to.  I want to love you and make love
to you.  I want to feel your flesh under my hands and my lips.  I
desperately want to.  But, we have this thing."

   "No, we don't," she said.  "All we have is each other."

   "This secret, then," I began, "has it disappeared?  Is it resolved?"

   She looked into my eyes.  "For now," she said.  "This may not be smart,"
she continued, "but it is what I want.  And I know that it is what you want
as well."

   "I do, Sheila," I argued.  "But, I can't.  I need more assurance than a
temporary set-aside.  Please, just tell me the secret.  Tell me what it is,
let me help you deal with it, and then we can be together.  Please," I
begged.  "I'm on the verge of trying to guess.  I care for you too much to
do that."

   Sheila pulled me close to her.  Her head rested on my shoulder.  "I
can't," she whispered.  "You'll hate me."

   I gently seperated us, my hands on her shoulders.  I sighed deeply. 
"How do you know?"

   "Because," she said, tears flowing down her cheeks, "because I know you.
You won't be able to stand it."

   "Okay," I said softly.  "This is making me crazy.  You have got to tell
me, and you have to tell me now.  Please don't let this get in the way of
our relationship.  Don't make me walk out of here without an explanation.
Don't end us in mistrust and secrecy."

   Sheila's shoulders sagged in resignation.  Her words were so soft as to
be inaudible.  "All right."

   She led me to an L-shaped sofa and sat me down.  She moved to the DVD
player and inserted a disk.  She carried the remote control with her as she
sat opposite me.

   "I told you I was married once," she began.

   I nodded.

   "He was a producer.  I was addicted to his power and influence.  I
didn't realize that he was, in his heart, mean and manipulative.  He made
me do things that I have come to regret.  I am not who I was back then,
though, Brian."

   "Is that it?" I asked.  "You're husband, you're ex-husband, manipulated
you into doing something you regret doing?  That's it?"

   She pressed a button on the remote.

   I sat wide-eyed and astounded as I watched the stunning Sheila suck
multiple cocks, lick pussy and undergo an airtight assault of three
different cocks, two of them black.

   "The white guy was my husband.  He fancied himself quite an actor as
well as a producer," she explained.

   I watched in silence for thirty minutes or so.  Finally I ordered Sheila
to stop the show.  "Enough," I said.  "I've seen enough."

   "That's my secret, Brian.  I'm not proud of it.  And, now I'm sure you
hate me."

   "I'm surprised at you," I said slowly.  "I always believed you were
smart, that you had a good head square on your shoulders."

   "I made a huge mistake," she admitted.

   "That you did," I told her.  "You underestimated yourself and you
underestimated me."

   Sheila looked like she'd been slapped.

   "How many of these are there?" I asked her.

   "Thirty-four," she answered.  "Well, thousands in distribution, but
thirty-four titles."

   "How long did you," I paused, "act?"

   "Five years, more or less."

   "That's more than six a year," I noted.  "Do you have copies of them
all?"

   "I don't know why I kept them," Sheila said, nodding.

   "Do you watch them?"

   "God, no!  This is the first time I've played one since the divorce."

   "Anything else I should know about?"

   "This isn't enough?"

   I chuckled.  "I mean, other than emotionally, were you scarred,
deformed, injured in any way?"

   "No," she said.

   I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from my chest.  In its
place, the vacancy left by release of pressure, my heart expanded
exponentially.  It was, I recognized, love.  I took Sheila's hands in mine.

   "Okay," I told her, "the slate is clean.  When I was a kid, I was pretty
much a delinquent.  I never got arrested, but I did things like put cherry
bombs in mailboxes, spray painted vacant buildings, and hung with a pretty
rough crowd.  But, that's not who I am, now.  You were a porn star.  A
damned fine one, too, from what I've seen.  Point is, unless you're porking
the Bengals or something..." I paused while watching Sheila shake her head,
"that's not who you are now, either."

   "But it is so sordid," she protested.

   "Sheila, I don't care," I stated emphatically.  "I love you.  I love the
you that you've become."

   "What happens if somebody recognizes me?" she asked plaintively.

   "Fuck 'em," I said.  "I don't mean that literally, of course.  But, to
hell with them.  Hell, anybody who does recognize you will probably be
jealous that I've landed the hot one."

   Sheila laughed aloud for the first time in a week.  "You really mean
that?"

   "I do," I repeated.  "Damn!  That sounds like what they say at a
wedding."

   Sheila looked sheepishly at the floor.  "I don't mind if you practice."

   I stood up and extended my arms to her.  "What about the other?"

   "What other?"

   "Practice," I said.  "Do you still want me in your bed and in your body?
We could practice that."

   "I do," she said, and then laughed aloud again.

   She took my arm and led me toward her bedroom.  "I suppose you'll be
expecting all sorts of sexual acrobatics now," she said.

   "No, darling," I told her.  "Sex is sex and love is love.  I intend that
we should first make love."

   "It's no wonder I love you like I do," she grinned.

   "Right," I nodded.  "The sexual acrobatics we'll save for later."

   Sheila punched my arm, ushered me into her bedroom and closed the door
behind us.