The Dinner Party Chapter 10

Dinner Party Chapter Ten Stuber

Tad: I have a game of three questions, will you play?
“Stephanie”: What type of questions will they be?
Tad: The first two will be questions of time, the last one will be a straightforward yes or no question.
“Stephanie”: That seems like an innocent enough trio. Go ahead, let’s play.
Tad: Do you think forty minutes is just the right amount of time, too long a time, or not enough time to perform cunnilingus on a woman?
“Stephanie”: Would this be continual, regardless of orgasms?
Tad: Yes. In other words could you stand forty minutes, would it be too much for you, or would you want your man to go more than forty minutes with the love tongue, even if you had twenty orgasms?
“Stephanie”: Forty minutes would be fine, I’d want to harden his hanging meat and saddle-ride Marley until he burst with joy just after he did that.
Tad: Marley, hmmm, I see. Okay, second question: When was the last time your heart went pitter-patter like the first time you were in love during your twelfth or thirteenth summer?
Bobbing Tail stood there for a while. An inner tear, squelched before Flying Owl could see it, welled up in her.
“Stephanie”: You have saddened me with that question. Only once since my 18th spring, and that was the time I met Running Bear. That one time was just the other day.
Tad: Don’t tell me who it was. I’ve had a flutter in my heart recently too.
“Stephanie”: What is your last question.
Tad: You got forty minutes to spare?
Tad’s finesse went unnoticed by Stephanie, but not by the other two who wandered off.
“Stephanie”: I’ve got all the time in the world. I’ve been looking for Marley. He is a mystic, and I can learn form him. I always liked his music, but I have a warm place for him that is more magnetic than an attraction to his music.

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Tad: I mean do you have forty minutes to spare right now so I can test your meddle against the world’s most active tongue.
“Stephanie”: With you!?
Tad: I was thinking it would be fun. What is the harm in fooling around. If this is a dream, and I am a holy man, why can’t I invent what a holy man is? I’m the God of cunnilingus.
“Stephanie”: You’re some type of holy pervert.
Tad: No, I was thinking, that in my life before this dream, I had as many physical problems as a person could possibly survive. Maybe I am here not just to bridge religions, but also to teach people how to get the most out of the bodies they have.
“Stephanie”: What do you mean?
Tad: Let’s say you’re a beautiful model and all the world would like to have sex with you. You’ve got a weird boyfriend, and everyone thinks you have great sex. Truth is, you’re alone a lot, and when the jerk is home you have quick, male-dominated sex that is not thrilling, and reminds you of your uncle Frank who raped you when you were 14 years old?
“Stephanie”: Holy shit, how did you know all that? But it wasn’t my uncle it was a friend of my fathers!
Tad: I didn’t, I was making up an example.
“Stephanie”: You got really lucky, but a lot of what you just said was just like what I went through with Axis. Axis was this wanked out musician who raped me continually. He figured he was making me happy, but he wasn’t.
Tad: Well, if you think I am good at guessing your past, why wouldn’t I be able to get you past your fears of men so you could enjoy you’re body, just like every man in America did back before the dream.
“Stephanie”: Hmm, sounds interesting, but why couldn’t Marley do that.
Tad: Truth is, he could, but he won’t be able to until you approach him with a different mind.
“Stephanie”: I still don’t get it.
Tad: Just ten minutes ago you were all a-flutter about Marley. You were

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ready to let him do to you what your uncle did to you, just to gain his favor.
“Stephanie”: but everyone has to do things they don’t like in a relationship.
Tad: So no matter how good the sex could be, to you it is a way to be with someone you love. Or is it just his music you love?
“Stephanie”: I am attracted to him physically though.
Tad: Sure, but with all you just said, it seems like sex will bring back many bad memories for you, even if it is good sex. You described it as doing things you don’t like to do. I realize good relationships require healthy compromise, but don’t you think it’s weird that a woman who has photos taken and spread about the country in nothing but underwear would have almost no fun at sex?
“Stephanie”: I have orgasms all the time!
Tad: With men?
“Stephanie”: Sure.
Tad: But I think you could have much more fun with sex with men. women, by yourself, or whatever.
“Stephanie”: You’re sick.
Tad: Nope. I just think I can help you with your body, and the way you relate to men. It seems a shame to me that anyone as attractive as you should be trapped with a psyche that drives men away once you have first done so much to attract them in the first place.
“Stephanie”: So you were a shrink before the dream?
Tad: Not at all. Most of what I know about people I just learned along the way.
“Stephanie”: So how do you think you got invited to this dream. For me it was easy. Everybody knows my face. I’m sure I’m here to help produce offspring that blend the cultures. But what about you. You think you know sex, but I thought you had health problems before the dream.
Tad: Sure. I went years without having sex. I was about to die when the dream took me here. What I know best is feelings. I know what it’s like to be alone. I know what it’s like to have loves lost because my body was not right for people. this dream has made my body right. So let me help you with what I know,

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and you can help me with what you know.
“Stephanie”: Well, it’s a thing to do. I don’t know much more than how to look sexy. I know how to raise a kid I guess. but My child was only four when the dream came along.
Tad: Come, let’s go get acquainted.
“Stephanie”: There you go again you pervert.
Tad: No pervert here, I just think we should be alone to talk you through your stuff.
“Stephanie”: You may not have noticed, but our talk has made us alone.
{We’ll go to T. and S. for the two folks here, as this whole chapter is bound to spiral down to just the two of them.} (It saves paper too.)
T.: OK, so where shall we start?
S.: I really don’t want to talk to you about this.
T.: I figured that before, but I’m sorry I jumped straight to the physical therapy.
S.: You really need to try better lines.
T.: This is no line.
S.: I know you think you’re slick, but how is having a romp with you going to change my feelings about men and sex and life?
T.: I wasn’t talking about a romp, I was talking about helping you learn to relax around men. Physical therapy is as simple as sitting together. not Talking, not making love, not thinking about too much.
S.: But here we are in this magnificent dream and you want to sit around!?
T.: Whatever you like.
S.: That’s not going to fix anything.
T.: No?
S.: OK, do you know where we can get some pot.
T.: If we were back home I could find you some, but these folks don’t necessarily smoke hemp in their peace pipes.

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S.: Boy, you don’t catch on very fast.
T.: Alright, I know where we can borrow a peace pipe. I still don’t know where to find any smoke.
S.: it’s drying in a hut. Sometimes they make things out of it, but not very often. hey, do you know who owns the pipe we are going to find?
T.: No, I saw one hanging on the wall of the gonohsoe the other night.
S:. you ding-dong, that’s a ceremonial pipe. If they saw it missing it would be like taking a bead belt with the history of the Heron clan on it.
T.: Oh.
Tad and “Stephanie” head for a group of sitting men.
T.: Does anyone have a casual pipe we can borrow for a smoke?
The men were amused that tad would allow a woman to smoke casually with him. One handed Tad a small pipe, and, with hand gestures, told him he could keep it.
“Stephanie” had already started toward the hut that housed the pot, when one of the sitting men stood and ran after her. He handed her a bud about a foot long. She wandered back to find Tad standing with pipe in hand.
S.: Looks like we’re in business.
T.: Do you want to go down by the lake?
S.: Sure.
T.: You’re a beautiful lady.
S.: You’re smart for your age.
T.: Well, I know these parts.
S.: What do you mean, are you some type of time traveler who has been here before?
T.: Well, if you meditate hard enough you can take your mind anywhere, but that’s not what I meant. I used to live on this lake.
S.: What!? Do the others now about this?
T.: No. I have been trying to figure out my mission here. I assumed that the

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natives know how to scout the area better than I do. So, maybe my love of people gave me the job of shaman for the invitees.
S.: Not too much of an egoist are you?
T.: Well, Marley himself has had some bizarre dreams about the Maori people of New Zealand. he is already considered the most reliable of the visitors. Don’t you think it is odd that I know more about the Maori religion than he does.
S.: how’s that?
T.: I lived in New Zealand for a year in 1973, then I returned. I know the things he has been dreaming about, and I can tell you that he is correct in their interpretations of dreams. Anyway, he told me that the top woman god of the Maori told him in a dream that I was to be the religious liaison for the whites and Indians.
S.: Yeah?
T.: Don’t you see, that makes me Handsome Lake!
S.: So what does that mean. I mean, who was he.
T.: Originally he showed up much later in time than we are now. He was a man who taught the Iroquois how to live in peace with the white man. It meant the end of their power, but, as you will recall, the native ways and religions were just catching on again in 1991 when we all seem to have been yanked from our lives.
S.: I know. Nostradamus was telling me about it.
T.: What else did he tell you about?
S.: He told me about the birth of the white Buffalo in 1994 or 1995. He told me about the death of the high shaman of the Iroquois tribe in 1996.
T.: Did he tell you the last thing the medicine man said before he died.
S.: I don’t remember.
T.: Shit.
S.: Why, what does it matter?
T.: There is always significance when an important person dies. Often what

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they say on their death bed has an impact, because their followers will see that it comes true even if they have to die for it.
S.: All he told me was that this guy believed that before the year 2000 the Great Creator would visit earth.
T.: Huh!?
S.: Yeah, I think he said that in one form or another, the creator would be back on earth as of August 17, 1996.
T.: That can’t be true. I mean if he said that, then the people in his tribe will be preparing for signs of the creator. It also means that idiots will be running around sacrificing themselves or saying they are Jesus Christ, or whatever. Remember, the year 1000 set off the crusades.
S.: I had forgotten that.
T.: God, maybe it already started happening, I mean with Kurt Cobain, then back with Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison and Duane Allman. That’s got to be the reason Duane Allman is here.
S.: Cher told me Gregg Allman’s a drunk, but a hell of a lot of fun. I think she even had a kid with him.
T.: Sure did: Elijah Blue Allman.
S.: So why do you think Duane’s here?
T.: Well, I used to think Duane was part of the group of unlucky musicians that once associated with Eric Clapton, just before bizarre deaths.
S.: What do you mean.
T.: Well, there was that singer for the Yardbirds who got electrocuted, and then Brother Duane, and don’t forget the kid out the window, and how about Stevie Ray Vaughn. I can’t imagine what Clapton’s been through, but if anyone has earned the right to sing the blues it’s him.
S.: It still doesn’t explain why this dreamer picked the people he picked.
T.: I can guess why he picked you and Jessica Lange. Then it was the other one, Monica who also picked people. I think she’s the one who picked Jerry Garcia.

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S.: But you said you knew why Duane was here.
T.: It’s a theory really. Marley, Garcia and Allman all survived the sixties. They were all writing stuff that was a bit anti-establishment EXCEPT Allman. He’s here strictly as a musician then. But, with the connection to Clapton and the crazy way he was mowed down from behind, even though the red light on his Harley worked fine, it makes you wonder what he knows. Maybe you could get closer to him than I could.
S.: Sure, but I like Marley more.
T.: This isn’t a game of spies or Mata Hari’s revenge, but if we could gather the knowledge and spread it around, we’d be in control of what happens around here.
The two were nearing the water.
S.: You’re such an ego-maniac, how would we be in control of what goes on?
T.: If you figure the TV news at least controls a little bit of what goes on in the minds of Americans, then, if we can figure out the complexities of what people know, we should be able to figure out the future, if the people apply their experiences to the situation at hand.
S.: Got any proof you theory works?
T.: Catherine the Great has proved out fairly well already. She seduced the chief, probably got him killed one way or the other when he went against her plans, and is now leading a peace-loving people into war.
S.: My brain’s all warped by this.
“Stephanie” slips into the water. She wades in one foot at a time. When she gets in about up to a knee she slows down. On a 90-degree day, 60-degree water is colder than you could possibly know. Small rivulets expand from her leg. Like tiny wakes, these expanding circles lead her to greater depths. When she gets to the bottom of the gap between her legs she slows down again. She doesn’t want to ruin the only “clothes” she has so she takes them off. No way for Tad to catch up with her thought patterns here. Who would think that getting clothes wet would ruin

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them? So he’s standing there thinking that his physical therapy session is about to begin, while she’s naked, half in the water, and wondering whether her genitals can possible accept the cold water. She knows her perfect B-cup titties will be in pain soon; well, either pain or excited, either way, erect nipples will soon be pointing at this guy Tad if she goes in and then comes out of this water. Without thinking she steps further out. The slippery rocks create a downdraft that flies in over her right shoulder. The downdraft continues between her breasts, down her stomach and between her legs. It causes a splash in the water that is large enough to escape the width of her body. It is only a three-inch-in-diameter splash below her pubis, but it goes wide and shows up out of her back and up her front. It splashes to her shoulders, front and back. Tad figures it’s the world’s largest, most explosive Quife (vaginal fart) on record. He may be wrong, but “Stephanie” assumes the same thing, after all, a regular anal zephyr would only cause a splash up the back side. Plus, with a regular, you’d have to be the exact right distance form the water. A Quife, however is much less horizontally directed. In this case it would have had to let itself go without “Stephanie” knowing about it. No, this was a downdraft, but there was no way for either of them to know that. Being what it was, the downdraft caused “Stephanie” to slip and fall backwards into the water.
Just then Tad dabbed a big toe into the water.
“Stephanie” splashed around, stumbled up, grabbed her pubis with one hand and a bosom with the other. Suddenly she was embarrassed to be naked.
T.: Don’t worry, I’m not here to gawk or make you feel weird.
S.: I don’t even know you!
T.: But somehow you felt alright about skinny dipping in front of me, even though I wasn’t in the water.
S.: I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want to ruin my only clothes.
T.: OK, do you want to feel more comfortable?
S.: I feel comfortable, but why should I be naked, if you’re not?
T.: OK

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Tad disrobed and exposed a stumpy penis that was slowly getting wood. It still hung, but it wasn’t flaccid either.
S.: You’re nothing to write home about.
T.: I’ll grow on you.
S.: Shall we?
T.: We shall not. Not until you are comfortable.
S.: Now you’re getting ridiculous. If I wanna go, and you wanna go, who’s not comfortable?
T.: You may love the idea of good spontaneous sex, so do I, but you still won’t have as good a time as you could.
S.: OK we’ll do it our way.
Tad stepped back and laid his clothes on the soft grasses that flowed, now and then, in the breezes. He matted down an area near the path they had traveled to reach the water. it was a small path. There were so many paths that led to the water that some were used way more than others. This less-traveled path bent around hard wood trees, some Pines, some Birches, maybe a Maple or two. It went up a slope to a clearing. A few fields further and you’ve got the group of homes Tad was going to steal the pipe from.
{Anyway, he is about to light up the pipe he borrowed. Lucky for them Stephanie didn’t get her top wet. That’s where she had stashed the mondo-bud.}
T.: I think I want to swim too.
Tad said this, just as “Stephanie” was offering her loins above his head. She was standing over him while he propped himself on an elbow. Her dishwater blonde pubic hair (dyed form the original black, but fading back to black as we speak) dripped a pure water droplet from Ganandauguay. He tickled the inner thigh of “Stephanie’s” right leg, then sat up and went in for a dip.
She sat stunned, then laughed, then pulled out the bud. Some of the leafy substance around the edges had fallen off, but there was plenty left for eight or ten bowls. She broke off a thumbnail’s worth, packed it lightly in the bowl and realized

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she had no way to light the sucker. While he swam, she traipsed back to the fire (almost a mile) and got a light, and a burning stick to light another fire with. The sitting men were arguing, but quit, and laughed when they saw her walking up looking for a light all naked. Usually once girls got to be ten or so, nudity in broad daylight was out of the question in these parts. To see more of “Stephanie” than expected, a few of the men lied horizontal as she approached. Most were still laughing, but no one teased. Who could tease such a woman? Who could be in anything but awe of a woman from the future who was willing to parade thusly.
She gathered her supplies and walked away. If they hadn’t laughed she might not have remembered she was naked. As she approached she heard Tad.
T.: Where the hell are you? Quit teasing around. I see your clothes here, but where are you?
S.: I’m just coming.
She was still out of sight.
T.: You’ve been masturbating?
S.: No.
T.: Where did you go.
S.: I went to get a light.
“Stephanie” appeared from the small path.
T.: Oh.
He smiled. He envisioned the scene back with the sitting men. His vision was a bit off. No way he could have guessed that the clan would simply laugh at her.
S.: How was your swim?
T.: It was great. It was better than any other swim I’ve ever had.
S.: You’re probably too pooped to enjoy this.
T.: I doubt it.
Stephanie handed over the smoking pipe. Tad took a toke and held it in. He coughed a little and stared at Stephanie without realizing it.




  • Before You Speak

    Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates. At the first gate, ask yourself, ‘Is it true?’ At the second ask, ‘Is it necessary?’ At the third gate ask ‘Is it kind? Rumi  Translated by Coleman Barks



“The Dinner Party,” a novella in 11 chapters plus endnotes, copyright, Doug Stuber, 1992.  Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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