Adventures of Me and Martha JaneChapter 10C
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Ronnie said to me as I sat nude on a three-legged stool and she started drawing, "Martha won't let me draw her, you know."
I asked "Why not?"
"She sat for me about the time we first met. When we were roommates. And she had such a classic, gorgeous figure, I told her she just had to pose nude for me, just *had* to. Or in a swim suit or something."
"She wouldn't?"
Ronnie sighed, erasing something. "No."
I said, trying to balance myself with one foot on the floor and my other foot on the lower braces of the stool, "But she's nude on the beach."
"Well, that's different. That's public."
"But I thought you came back from the beach and gave each other rubdowns with the lotion. To keep from peeling."
Ronnie grinned, her eyes on her drawing. "In our bathing suits. Tops down, of course. But in suits." She worked for a minute and said, "But it's just as well. Even dressed, she was so restless. She couldn't hold a pose for more than ten minutes, and she just talked and talked. And it was so funny, she kept rearranging everything in the room, bitching about the clutter. I guess she did me a favor. I couldn't find anything until she straightened up in here."
She had me change poses. We were in her living room this time. I had helped her move her drawing equipment and the little sofa out of the bedroom.
She said as she started working with the new position, "You're doing real well. I've touched you several times, and no sign of trouble. Very good, Steven."
"Sunday night helped."
"Yes, that was nice, wasn't it? The sight of you and Martha just..." She stopped, blushing again. "I'd better shut my mouth." She opened a new box of charcoals and said, "We'll cut this a little short today, and you can help me with the math on those charts. I borrowed the electric calculator from the office."
Ronnie's very mention of Sunday night brought back a stream of memories of having sex with her. I wondered if she'd introduced the subject on purpose. But she kept working for another half hour, saying nothing, working faster and faster as she went along. I managed to avoid developing a boner. Since the time I met Anita, I had True Love on my mind, displacing raw sex as a priority. But, as usual, the more I was around Ronnie the more she appealed to me. Now I held my pose, thinking of her as a lover instead of as Martha's partner. And she did have a pretty face that seemed prettier every time I looked at her. She wore a fluffy full skirt and loafers, and an oversized white shirt with the sleeves rolled, top buttons carelessly undone, and the back of the collar was turned up in the fashion of those days. And her face looked so womanly, but in those clothes she looked girlish.
Ronnie glanced at me and stopped working. She looked it over, gave a tired sigh, and said, "Time to stop, I guess. And you're starting to do that with your eyes again."
"I was?"
She smirked and rose to her feet. "I saw you."
In the living room Ronnie showed me the numbers she needed for calculating the horoscope charts. I had the heard the story of my birth from so many relatives so many times that I happened to know my time of birth as 9:30 at night. Ronnie said the birth time was extremely important in building the charts. She showed me a book of tables that indicated my birth time as War Time, so she had to convert that time to several other versions. I was surprised to find that it was all more complex than popular astrology books had led me to believe. I got involved with the electronic calculator, which I had never seen before. It turned out to be a dandy machine, though I was disappointed that the small, roll-out prints were so dim and difficult to read. When the numbers were finished, Ronnie worked with them to look up planets and other points in a coupleig books while I kept playing with the calculator. It occurred to me that machines like these were the wave of the future; if I could learn about them, that knowledge could be my ticket to New York.
We were sitting on her living room sofa when she finished drawing the charts. She had a manila envelope that contained other charts she had done, and she took out hers and Martha's and placed them with mine on the coffee table before us. "Here's the chart of your birth. Now, let's see..." She looked it over quickly, and muttered wondrously, "God, you have so much in your eighth house." She pointed to it on the chart. "That's your 8th house.
I said, "But there's only one planet in there."
"Yes. Pluto. But every planet in the chart points at it. It points by aspect. See? These planets are sixty degrees from it, these two are sixty degrees. And the sun and moon even aspect it, from your fifth. Oh, and look at this Venus, this Venus in your fourth house. It trines Pluto. Mm, no wonder you're so good in bed."
"It says that?"
She nodded. "Martha has a lot of the same thing in her chart. But so many of hers are squares." She kept looking, her eyes quickly skimming, and she pointed at the planet Venus at the bottom of the chart. "Oh, look. Venus trines the Ascendant. It's an exact aspect. That's where your ideal physical proportions come from. And that soft look that you have about you, that sort of, mmm, that sensitive look in your eyes. And there's Neptune, in your tenth. Oh, my, there's so much here. So much creativity. And stubbornness. You're not so aggressive physically, you're much more aggressive in your emotional nature. Very sensual."
She told me more, and it was getting to be a revelation.
I asked her, thinking ahead again, "Can people make money doing this?"
"Of course! People do. But it takes lots of experience."
Then she performed the neat trick of comparing her chart to mine. She was a Pisces, and the moment she held the charts side by side she couldn't seem to take her eyes off it. She breathed, "Oh, Steven. Sweetheart, I don't believe this comparison."
"Something wrong with it?"
"Oh no, it's... it's such a surprise. Some of what I see here, I know about. I've experienced it with you. You see here, the playing, the friendship. But this and this, Mars trine the Moon, and all this with Venus and Neptune..." She ran a finger slowly up the chart, into the large center circle, and her finger touched the symbol for Saturn. She muttered, "But this Saturn here..."
"Well, what does that mean?"
"It's so... soooo complex. God, it's complicated." She straightened up from her absorbed position of bending over the coffee table, and she took a deep breath. "Oh, it's much too complicated right now. I'll have to look at this."
"Ronnie, don't do that. You get me started and then drive me crazy."
She laughed, "Oh, don't worry about it, I'm not sure what it means yet. I have to look at it some more." She got her pack of cigarettes off the coffee table and shook one out of the pack and lit it with her lighter. She laughed, "Don't look so worried. It's not bad."
She lifted up a little and lounged back into the corner of the sofa, her back and head against the arm, and took another drag off her cigarette. She smiled at me. "It's just astrology, for godssake."
"What about the chart with me and Martha?"
"I'll have to figure that one. This is enough for one day, anyway. All this work is wearing me out." She stretched, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, looking very sexy in that shirt with the undone collar, and her skirt covering her folded legs.
I sat on the edge of the sofa, near her hips. She rested slightly on her side, her length along the sofa and her legs half-folded behind me. I said, "So... how long would it take for someone to learn how to do this for cash?"
"Someone? You mean you?"
"Anyone."
She took another drag and she gave a low, sexy chuckle that, the more I got to know her, was a trademark of her easy manner. She said, "Steven, you're so ambitious."
"Thank you. How long would it take."
"Years."
"Years?"
"Mm, it takes a long time. You need a lot of experience with it."
I repeated gloomily. "Years."
She added frankly, "And age, Steven. Years of studying other people. Relationships. And studying yourself.
I looked at her, propping an elbow on my knees and leaning on my hand. "So why don't you do this for money?"
"Don't want to. I want to draw. And fill my books with fantasies and dreams. And maybe, someday, I'll get paid for some of those, too." She reached out and flicked her cigarette on the ash tray on the coffee table. She leaned back at me again and put one arm behind her head. "You would be good at that. There's fantasy all over your chart. The theater's a good place for you, it's no wonder you ended up there."
"Not lately. Not much theater work in the grocery business. Or pitching the morning newspapers."
"Oh, you'll get back to it. And you'll love it and you'll work hard. You're a very hard worker, very determined. You have very strong emotions, and you want to give them a physical form. That's what all creative people do. They don't just feel their emotions, they have to give them form. Pictures. Poems. Films. Very powerful emotions. Very primitive. You and I have that in common,"
I grinned at her. "You know that from this chart?"
"Sure. We have a lot in common, you and I. Fantasy. Dreams. Primitive dreams, loaded with symbols. Violent, sometimes. Dreams of dying, somehow, of floating in a vast place, out of control."
I looked at her. "How did you know that?"
"From the chart. And just knowing you." Her voice lowered. "Some of your dreams are prophetic. They seem symbolic and mysterious, but somehow, in some way, they come true. They're visions of things on their way, things... things that are part of your purpose in coming to this life. Lessons you will learn."
I looked at her, wondering if she were serious.
She said, "It's all theory, of course. The idea that we've come into life with a purpose, a scheme so deeply imbedded in our psyche that we aren't aware of it. Karma. Multiple lives. All unproven. So, doubt it if you want. Take it with a grain of salt. I'm only telling you what the books say about your Neptune."
I didn't say anything.
She said, "Our charts share a strong fantasy nature. A compulsive sexuality. Some of that's no news, Right? But when I hear you and Martha talk... and when I saw what certain kinds of talk does to you, I found that in your chart right away."
"Don't most people have those same feelings?"
Ronnie smiled. "I knew you'd say that. Everyone says that. But the truth is, everyone doesn't feel the same way. And those who do, express it differently. Not everyone has a fiery temper. Or the same sexual preferences." She dragged on her cigarette, and she exhaled and glanced toward the charts on the table. She said, "Hand me those three charts, hm? Yours and mine, and that's Martha's in the corner there. Gimme all three." I handed her the charts, and she spread them apart, overlapping across her skirted lap as she reclined along the sofa's length.
She muttered, "Mm, let's see," and she took a drag and said, "Mars in Cancer. Very caring, Steven. Nurturing. But so untrusting. And Neptune on the midheaven. Mmmm. So creative. And too idealistic for your own good. I know about that one, myself. Very familiar with that."
With the cigarette, she pointed to Pluto on my chart. She spoke more softly, solemnly. "This is your darkness. It's in a wonderful position. It has all good aspects, so you're not the violent, ruthless Plutonic type. You're very aware of your darkness, very secretive about it. You understand that it separates you from most people. But you use your darkness to bring light. There's great pain in doing that, Steven. It's a dark night, and a long journey. Pluto's journey, they say, is through the dark night of the soul."
She took another drag and blew it out while she glanced at another part of the chart. "Neptune and Pluto. Venus and Pluto. The Moon and Sun and Pluto... God, every planet in this chart points to it. So much like mine, except Neptune is more prominent in mine. But in yours, you seem... soft and powerless sometimes. You're very gentle, Steven. A very loving sensuality, but intense. And inside, you have a secret. You have somewhere inside you, something made of steel. Lonely. Self sufficient. Indestructible. You'll realize, some day, that you know how to take what others have rejected or destroyed, and make it beautiful again. You know how to rise from the ashes."
I stared at her, speechless and fascinated.
She went on, her fingers roaming from place to place on the chart. "And here, another side of you. There's an outlaw here. A rebel. A loner. The all or nothing type. And god, so intense, all this hidden intensity. Overly sensitive, though, so you keep it a secret. Loss of the mother and father -- Yes, I have that in mine. Alienation and then passion, and..."
She stopped, gazing again at my chart. and she smiled dimly and sighed. "I think that's enough of this for now. Maybe too much."
I said, "Ronnie... this stuff is much more than handsome strangers and black cats at midnight."
She took a puff and said, "No. It's not tea leaves, honey." She picked up her chart and laid it onto mine. Her voice was still somber. She said, "I have this same Pluto. But not like yours. Yours is very strong." Then she laid Martha's chart atop hers and mine. "And Martha, too. But hers is driven. Darker forces, but more masterful. And oh so fiery. Martha has so much Earth and Fire. Fanatical in her needs and beliefs. I hope she succeeds one day. She'll die if she doesn't."
She cleared her throat and stretched her arm toward the coffee table and let the charts drop. "Well... Thanks for helping with the numbers." She relaxed cozily into the corner of the sofa again, one arm behind her head. "I'll go over Martha's sometime. And over yours again, if I haven't scared the hell out of you already."
I blushed. "You're very talented. I'm starting to feel a little naked."
"Well, you were naked, a while ago." We laughed, and she said confidentially, as she leaned to her left and crushed her cigarette in the ash tray, "And your eyes had me feeling a little naked, too, for a minute there."
I said, "Oh. Sorry."
"Oh, don't be sorry. It's just an effect we have on each other. It's chemistry. It's very unique." She leaned back on the sofa again and put both hands behind her head. She said, "Not everyone would think so, I guess, but I think you're very seductive."
I didn't say anything. She looked at me, her dark eyes studying again, intimate, almost playing. She said, "Steven... have you ever seduced anyone?"
I gulped, shaking my head, and blushed.
She teased, "Have you?"
"I don't remember."
She gave me a mildly scolding look. "I'll bet."
"No, I didn't. Not really."
"Ever see that movie, 'Tea and Sympathy'?"
"Yeah, I saw it."
"Me too. And the play in New York. What'd you think of it?"
"Kinda sappy."
"Yeah. Yeah, it was. Really overdone." She looked at me for another moment. "Did you seduce Martha, or did she seduce you?"
"I think... we both did it together."
"But somebody made the first move."
I thought. "I don't remember."
She smiled, gently mocking, "I'll bet you're not kidding about never seducing a girl. I'll bet someone else has almost always made the first move. I think you were raised that way, with every move and every word pre-judged. Until you had to think about everything you did before you did it. And almost always ended up saying no to yourself."
"Think so?"
"Sure."
"That's in the chart, too?"
She stretched a little, arching her chest, and relaxed. "Some of it. Some, I know from Martha. She's told me a lot about how you two grew up. And a lot on the train that day at the beach."
"I wondered what you two were talking about for so long."
Ronnie shook her head no. "You were asleep then. Napping. But anyway, I also knew how you grew up because I grew up the same way." She stretched again, and leaned back against her hands, and closed her eyes. She said, her voice growing softer. "And like me, you have many fantasies. But you're so-o-o secretive about them. Much more secretive than Martha or me. Saturn in your chart says you're very ashamed of having them. But you'll get over that. I did." She yawned, a big, open mouthed one, holding her hand over her mouth, and then putting her arm behind her head again. "Sorry. All this thinking makes me so tired. Thinking about all those many, many fantasies I have. Books and books of them. I have this very Neptunian fantasy, that someone with eyes like yours would seduce me. We'd be in some quiet place, and we'd talk. And he'd be very nice to me. He wouldn't be trying out his bag of tricks on me. He wouldn't be screwing around with my mind. He'd just like me. And he'd seduce me. We'd seduce each other. It would all be gauzy, dreamy, luscious pleasure. It would all be very lovely, and next day we'd go our merry way. And I'd have that fantasy out of my mind forever. It wouldn't own me any more." She yawned again. "Yeah, right. That one comes out of every issue of Redbook magazine."
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