Let's Go Play at the Adams'

Barbara was astonished. She almost held her breath so that she wouldn't frighten the

discovery away. Something had happened. Something was happening; she could feel the

tension definitely lowering now. By accident, she had touched some control, and now the

situation was better/possible. But what was happening?

Think, Barbara said (as usual). It was there, it was just out there. No, I won't, she said. I

don't like it Nonetheless her mind like a piece of photographic paper received a pale

impression, and she suddenly saw a pattern in all of this. It seemed incredible for these

subteen and teen-aged children and yet the truth of the matter was that the kiddies had

fallen in love with Teacher and determined to play an erotic game with her. I don't believe

it, she said. But she did.

Children, pupils, students falling in love with their teachers-it was &.11 in something she'd

read for some course or other, nothing more than a footnote but there. Here. The feeling

she was getting from John, the

65

one she had not been able to understand when he came in, was in fact the same feeling

she got from older men who thought they just might have the chance to make her. It was

the thing of the party traps, the automobile traps, the arm around the shoulder traps-how

well she knew them, how carefully she avoided them (usually)-and here it was again.

Absolutely. No mistaking it at all.

Dear god, Barbara thought a little wildly, what now? If she continued to be complaining,

accusatory, aloof, it would spoil their game, she supposed, but would it make them tum her

loose? From somewhere inside her came a nice, neat answer: no. Where did that come

from? Old "Group Needs and Interaction?" From experience? Never mind. People and

animals in packs were socially merciless. What was more likely was if she continued the

way she was going, they'd tum angry and vengeful. Like the gang of children snow-balling

the odd-child-out on the playground, they'd punish her: as the parking-lot sniggerers had

never been able to do, these kids would make her play the game. But they couldn't,

Barbara Miller said to herself. Oh yes 'they could, said another voice within her, one that

sounded very much like Terry.

On the other hand, Barbara said, on the other hand ....

No. This was a direction in which her mind moved only with reluctance. The path of thought

was dark and impeded by a lifetime of avoidance.

On the other hand, Barbara still said, if I changed myself somehow, if I was a little bit more

like what they want me to be, what would happen then? She rapidly imagined herself

through the day or days ahead and thought that perhaps she saw a time when one of the

youngsters in a fondness then returned, would become sorry for her and let her go. After

all, Barbara said, what have I got to lose? ·

Still a nicety held her back.

Deep inside of her in a place she delicately arid indistinctly located below her navel and

above her knees

66

(associations like that are Freudian, Terry always said) was another, separate and very

neatly independent Barbara who had always been there. Not unusual. Not unusual at all

if what Barbara read in her psych courses was even nearly right. Over the years,

Barbara had located, recognized and isolated this shadow self that she called Sexy

Barbara.

To the extent that Sexy Barbara had individual existence at all, she appeared as a

slightly slipped image of the self that necessarily followed but did not always exactly

obey her mistress. Where real Barbara conventionally waited for love to find her, Sexy

Barbara was almost anxious to try sex and adventure for themselves. Where rea1

Barbara went her own way believing that her essential worth and merit would

eventually be discovered, Sexy Barbara bleached real Barbara's short hair: darkened

her eyebrows and lashes, chose padded bras, shortened her skirts, walked in a certain

way at certain times and for certain other people. She invited closer investigation.

The way it came out, Sexy Barbara-everything mock-adult, mock-dangerous, mock-

heavy-was a plain hazard to have around, and the relationship between the two Ms.

Millers had to be clear all the time. Real Barbara controlled, and Sexy Barbara was forci-

bly submerged, a willful creature who day- and night dreamed and occasionally slipped

out to be a trouble. Now, however, Sexy Barbara might be just what was needed.

If Freedom Five liked Barbara the way she was now, if John had a thing on about her,

what in the world would they think of Sexy Barbara? What would the chemistry be?

Well, anyhow, her mind was made up about it. The only problem was that after a

lifetime of suppression, Sexy Barbara wasn't the easiest thing in the world to just turn

on. Besides, she didn't respond to everyone anymore than did Barbara herself. Oh, well.