CHAPTER ONE

As Marissa drove across town she played back in her mind some of her dates with Bianca thus far.

Bianca had managed to gain them entrance to the Barnes Foundation which houses one of the world's leading collections of French impressionist and post-impressionist paintings. They stood close discussing the works of Renoir, Cézanne, Matisse, Manet, Degas, Seurat, Prendergrast, Titian and Picasso. Marissa learned how incredibly well-versed Bianca is on the subject of visual art history. Her head spun as she drank in the barrage of information that was proffered. Later when she moved in for her good night kiss her head spun a great deal more. The kiss left her wanting.

Much later that night as Marissa lay in bed trying to quiet her mind she answered Bianca's mobile phone call.

"Hey, you," she whispered gleefully.

"Hi. Whenever I look into your eyes…I see vivacity, intensity and many a hue I could never properly put a name to. Well, it just came to me now. Your eyes, depending on how the light hits them, are the color of Van Gogh's sunflowers. Good night. Talk to you in the morning." And with that she had hung up.

Damn, she thought, this woman just knew how to make her feel so…incredible. She also knew that Bianca's thoughts, words and actions were genuine. Marissa hugged herself tight, wishing that Bianca was right there, right now…with her. Now how the hell was she supposed to get to sleep!

They attended a concert performed by a brilliant pianist and equally brilliant cellist. There they held hands, leaned on one another and were both moved to tears by the beauty of the music. On the count of "three" they agreed to both point within their programs at their favorite piano piece of the evening. Not surprisingly they had both indicated a piano rendition of Comptine d'un autre été: L'après-midi by composer Yann Tiersen. They did the same for favorite cello piece. One, two, three…they had both pointed to Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major.

They had explored the horticulture at the Longwood Gardens and then gone out for drinks at a cute little club with a nice mixed crowd. They had had a great time, as ever, although Marissa had been a bit peeved. She had really hoped she would have the opportunity to hold Bianca close, and then some, while dancing. Instead she was compelled to move in as close as possible to Bianca on the divan tucked away from the throng.

Bianca had been threatening to take Marissa horseback riding. Thus far she had escaped that potentially embarrassing and painful prospect. She had heard tell that Bianca was an accomplished horsewoman.

They had picnicked in the park. Marissa brought all the food stuffs and paraphernalia while Bianca chose the wine. Marissa laid out a Stewart tartan blanket, lit small glass tea lights, and set out a repast of Parma prosciutto, robiola tre latti, black mission figs, grapes and a baguette. Bianca poured them each a glass of her favorite Alsatian Pinot Gris. They sat, toasted being together, talked, laughed, kissed, fed themselves and one another, and kissed some more. Marissa laid down and Bianca placed her head on her stomach. Marissa read aloud her favorite selections from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. She held the book in one hand while caressing Bianca's forehead and hair with the other.

SONG OF MYSELF

1

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,

And what I shall assume, you shall assume,

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,

I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

2

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes,

…

I will go to the bank of the wood and become undisguised

and naked,

I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

…

A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,

…

The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising

from bed and meeting the sun

3

But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

…

And will never be any more perfection than there is now.

…

Always the procreant urge of the world.

…

Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be

less familiar than the rest.

4

Trippers and askers surround me,

People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward

and city I live in, or the nation,

…

My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,…

These come to me days and nights and go from me again,

But they are not the ME myself.

5

I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself

to you,

And you must not be abased to the other.

The two women then analyzed and actively discussed the poem. They determined that the poem celebrates the poet's self, but, while the "I" is the poet himself, it is, at the same time, universalized.

In stanza 2, the self, asserting its identity, declares its separateness from civilization and its closeness to nature. "Perfumes" are symbols of other individual selves; but out-of-doors, the earth's atmosphere denotes the universal self. The poet is tempted to let himself be submerged by other individual selves, but he is determined to maintain his individuality.

The poet feels joy through his senses. He is enthralled by the ecstasy of his physical sensations. He can revel in each of the five senses.

In the third and fourth stanzas, Whitman scolds lightly for wasting time discussing "the beginning and the end."

Stanza 5 is the poet's ecstatic revelation of union with his soul. He has a feeling of oneness with God and his fellow beings and a vision of love. This union brings him peace and joy.

The poet's intended messages were perceived by them both while the literal word meanings as read and heard were not lost on them either. They were silently contemplative for some time. Marissa then began reading once again.

I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC

1

I sing the body electric…

2

The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body

itself balks account,

That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.

The expression of the face balks account,

But the expression f a well-made [woman] appears not only in

her face,…

4

I have percceiv'd that to be with those I like is enough,

To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,

To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing

flesh is enough,

To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so

lightly round his or her neck for a moment,

what is this then?

I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as a sea.

There is something in staying close to men and women and

looking on them, and in the contact and odor

of them, that pleases the soul well,

All things please the soul, but these please the soul well.

5

This is the female form,

A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,

It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,

I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless

vapor, all falls aside but myself and it,

…

Be not ashamed women, your privilege encloses the rest, and is

the exit of the rest,

You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the

soul.

8

Have you ever loved the body of a woman?

Have you ever loved the body of a man?

…

If anything is sacred the human body is sacred,

…

9

The curious symphony one feels when feeling with the hand

The naked meat of the body,

A WOMAN WAITS FOR ME

A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing is lacking,

…

I draw you close to me, you women,

I can not let you go, I would do you good,

I am for you, and you are for me,

On several occasions Marissa could hear and feel Bianca's breathing alter. She knew that Bianca dare not look at her. Not right now. God, she wished she would. She wanted Bianca so badly. Why, oh why could she not melt that reserve of hers?

SPONTANEOUS ME

…

Arms and hands of love, lips of love, phallic thumb of love,

breasts of love, bellies press'd and glued together

with love

With that Bianca shot up from the blanket, grabbed her ever present hand bag, averted Marissa's shocked expression and totally bolted. "I gotta go! Uh, thanks. I'll talk to you later," she called out over her shoulder.

What the? What the hell had just happened? Marissa thought for a moment and then chuckled. Bianca had called her to apologize five minutes later. Marissa was "sorry, not really, for being none too subtle." Bianca was "sorry for being a chicken shit."

Mmm. And then there was the first night they had spent together. Yes, things were out of control all around them: JR's drunken heinous behavior; the Erica/Jane kidnapping/doppelganger saga; Dixie and Zach back from the dead and who knew what next. She had worked up the courage to ask Bianca back to her Yacht Club room, placed a first inviting kiss on her, and then Bianca couldn't help but kick it into higher gear. It was definitely not something she had ever experienced before. Bianca was just so…soft! They were determined to move forward together as a team. That first night was… She drew in and exhaled a full breath in remembrance…

"Oh, crap," she said out loud as she drove right by her intended destination.