The Klone and I (11 page)

“In the guest room. He slept there last night, after …” I couldn't finish the sentence, having already described our sexual exploits, thinking that the voice on the phone wasn't real. I had been lured, tricked, into an obscene situation, and all I wanted now was to disappear into oblivion forever.

“Good. Keep him in the guest room. And stay away from that goddam double flip.” Christ, now he was jealous. With a body like his, and Paul's, what did he expect? Mother Teresa couldn't have resisted him, and as I listened to Peter, Paul reached out and touched me, and I found myself longing to try the forbidden quadruple flip. “I'll be home in two weeks.” Suddenly, it sounded just a little bit too soon. What on earth had I gotten myself into, and who were these people? Clones … bionics … fully operative … double flips? I was trapped in a high-tech nightmare.

“I'll be here, sweetheart,” I said weakly. And then what? Would Paul disappear? “How's work?” It was the only thing I could think of to say, other than to ask about the weather in California.

“Fine. Where is he now, by the way?” He still
sounded a little worried, but it was his own damn fault. Klone indeed.

“He's here,” I said vaguely, as Paul lathered soap suds down my back, and erotically across my chest.

“Where are the kids?”

“At school. They'll be home soon.” Unfortunately. There was barely time to try for another triple flip. I didn't care what Peter said. I couldn't give up Paul now, even if he was bionic.

“I'll call you later,” he promised. “I love you, Steph.”

“I love you too,” and what's more, I meant it. The Klone was fun, but I had only let myself give way to him because I thought he was Peter … in fact, I had been so sure. And now I had to face what I was feeling, and what I had done with him, bionic or not. Peter said he was a toy … but what a toy he was! Never in my life had I had a toy like him.

“How was he?” Paul asked when I hung up. I was staring at him in confusion, as he lay looking at me in the tub.

“He's fine,” I said vaguely, thinking of everything he had said, with no idea how to make peace with myself, or the situation I was in. “He said to say hello.” In fact, he hadn't, but what else could I say? I was in way over my head, and I knew it.

“He hates that double flip. I think it just bugs him because he can't do it He's always afraid I'm going to tear some wires, or blow out my fuses, especially on the triple flip.”

“I think you blew out mine.” I smiled, still having difficulty believing it was all true. But there was no hiding from it now. I knew it was, the conversation with Peter had convinced me, especially the fact that he was jealous. “He said you weren't supposed to be fully operative,” I said, chiding him gently, sounding like I was scolding Sam about his homework, or the dog.

“I forgot,” Paul said, smiling broadly. “Champagne does that to me.” We knew what it had done to me, certainly. And he appeared to be entirely without remorse about it. “We'd better get dressed before the kids come home from school,” he said responsibly, as though to atone for the sins we'd committed. “They're really nice kids.”

“Peter likes them too,” I said wanly, staring at him again. He was the perfect likeness, and such an exquisite imitation that no one would ever have suspected he wasn't real. “What's it like?” I asked, unable to resist the question, but like Peter, he was bright, and quick.

“Being a Klone? I like it. It gives me a lot of freedom. He usually lets me do what I want. I get a lot of off-time when he's around, and a lot of
fun when he's gone.” Not to mention a lot of sex whenever he wanted.

“Have you done … uh … this for him before? I mean like this?” I wondered how many of Peter's girlfriends he had slept with, how many afternoons like this there had been, when he'd been “fully operative” instead of “partial.”

“No,” he said, facing me squarely, looking hurt. “I haven't. This is the first time I've visited a woman. But they've done a lot of rewiring and corrections on me lately. He's only used me in business till now, and on a few friends. Just like you, they thought it was all a big joke. They love me at his office, but he gets nervous when I go in. I made a couple of pretty sketchy deals for him last year. But this is the first time he's ever trusted me with anything as important as this.”

There were tears in his eyes as he said it, and in mine too. How had this happened to me? God only knew. It had been such a normal, innocent romance until Paul walked through my front door. I didn't know what to do. Paul had gotten under my skin in a terrifying way in a few brief hours, but it was Peter I was in love with. Of that I was still sure.

“This is the first time anything like this has ever happened to me, Paul,” a vast understatement at best. “I don't know what to think, or what to do.” I couldn't stop myself. I started crying
and he held me in his arms and gently stroked my hair. There was something so endearing about him, even if he was bionic.

“It's okay, Steph … it's new to me too. We'll work it out together … it'll be all right, I promise … he travels a lot.” What he said turned my tears into sobs. What was I going to do? It was like being involved with two men, one I knew and loved, or thought I did, the other totally outrageous, unbelievably sexy … but then Peter was too. It had been a cruel trick to play on me, and made Roger seem like a schoolboy. All this high-tech stuff was just too much to deal with, or even imagine. How was it possible? I was in love with a twisted genius, and sleeping with a bionic clone. Who would have believed me if I'd told anyone? Like those stories of ordinary people kidnapped by UFO's. I had a new respect for them, as I looked at Paul.

“I love you, Steph,” Paul said gently, as I continued to cry in his arms, overwhelmed by the situation I was in, “at least I think I do. You make my wires hurt. Maybe that's what love is.”

“Where?” I was suddenly intrigued by what he'd said, and wanted to know more about him.

“Right here.” He pointed to the back of his neck. “That's where most of the wiring is.”

“Maybe you hurt it with the triple flip.”

“I don't think so. I'm pretty good at it. I really think this is love.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Come on, get dressed,” he said with a look of mischief in his eyes. “Why don't we go out for dinner with the kids?”

I couldn't help smiling at him. He was such a sweet person, and it was obvious he loved the kids. He almost seemed like one of them, except thank God they didn't dress like him.

I put on my blue jeans then, and a black sweater, and a new pair of black suede loafers. And ten minutes before the kids were due home from school, Paul came out of his room. I could tell he'd gone to a lot of trouble dressing, and the effect he had achieved was impressive. It was a whole new look. Black patent leather jodhpurs, with a matching red patent leather jacket, a matching cowboy hat, a silver lame shirt, and silver alligator boots.

“Too dressy for dinner?” he asked, seeming worried. It was obvious that he really cared about how he looked.

“Maybe a little, if we're just going out for hamburgers or pizza.” I hated to tell him that he looked like a fire hydrant, but then I saw a spark of genius light his eyes.

“Why don't we take the kids to ‘21’? They know him there. We'll get great service, and Sam
would love the model airplanes in the bar.” Much as I loved him, and as impressed as I was with the double and triple flip, I couldn't imagine walking into ‘21’ with him, looking like that. But I knew that if I said anything about it to him, he would be devastated and deeply wounded.

“Maybe I should just cook dinner here,” I said gamely.

“Steph,” he looked at me with eyes filled with love, “I want to take you out and celebrate.” Celebrate what? That I was sleeping with two different men but they were the same … or were they? Something about him just touched my heart, no matter how agonized I was over my own situation. It really wasn't his fault, it was Peter's. But I wasn't angry at either of them. In some ways, I was a victim of Peter's genius, and the mad experiment he had created. But I sensed that there was no real malice behind it. Poor Peter had even been upset that Paul was unexpectedly fully operative and I was sleeping with him. We had all gotten more than we bargained for on this one.

“We really shouldn't take the kids out during the week,” I said to Paul gently, hoping to discourage him from taking us to ‘21’ and causing a scene there.

“Now you sound like him.” For an instant, he looked annoyed, and two minutes later, the kids walked in. Sam gasped when he saw the silver
lame shirt, and Charlotte was visibly impressed by the black patent leather jodhpurs and silver boots.

And then Paul told them that he wanted to take them to dinner at ‘21.’ The kids were thrilled, and their reaction fascinated me. Charlotte had thought he was a dork for wearing black leather Gucci shoes when she first met him. Now, in red and black patent leather, looking like a neon sign, she thought he was cool. Even more so when he let her try on all his rings. And if I wore a skirt that was so much as an inch too short, or God forbid, a fur hat in winter so my ears didn't freeze, she thought I was so embarrassing she wouldn't walk down the same street with me. How does one explain the perversity of a thirteen-year-old, or even begin to understand what constitutes acceptable to them? Clearly, Paul got it, and I didn't. He was one of them. And I wasn't.

And in spite of all my protests, Paul convinced the children that we should go out, and at seven-thirty we were riding in a limousine, on our way to ‘21,’ while the kids poured themselves Cokes in the backseat. He was still wearing the patent leather riding habit, and carrying a fur coat in case it got cold. And I was wearing a little black dress, and a string of pearls. He tried to get me to wear something less conservative. He even dove into my closet and tried to pick something out for
me, but he was disappointed by what he found there. He suggested I throw it all away, and start again. On Peter's American Express card.

“We have to go shopping for you next week. Steph, I love you, babe, but your wardrobe is really kind of dull.” Like my flannel nightgowns in days gone by, I could suddenly see my entire wardrobe ending up in the trash, or at the very least, at the Goodwill. Maybe Peter would come home from California to find me wearing leopard spandex just like Paul. It was something to think about as we rode downtown. The limo he had hired was white and three blocks long, the only one I'd ever seen with a hot tub on the back, in lieu of a trunk. Sam had said “Wow!” the moment he laid eyes on it. And when I whispered that it might be a little much, Paul reassured me that he had charged it to “him.” I was sure that Peter would be thrilled about it. But this was what he had sent him to us for, if not the triple flip. This assignment was to entertain us, and he was doing a fine job of it so far.

The service at ‘21’ was excellent, as usual, the meal superb. And without hesitating for an instant, when Sam exclaimed over the little airplanes hanging over the bar, Paul got up on a stool and cut three of them down for him. And when the head waiter rushed over immediately, Paul just told him to put them on the bill. He
bought a cute tote bag for Charlotte on the way out, and a bathrobe with ‘2G embroidered on it for me. We all had a great time, and several people stopped at our table to say hello, and Paul was adorable with them. He made lunch dates with two of the men for that week. They agreed to meet at the University Club, since Peter was a member there. I was sure that the leopard spandex number, or even the patent leather jodhpurs, would be a huge hit.

Everyone was in high spirits when we got home, and I was just putting Sam to bed when Peter called. Fortunately, I got the call before Charlotte did, or she would have been hopelessly confused. I no longer was. I was growing used to it, and although I missed Peter, we were all crazy about Paul. And I knew what was waiting for me that night. Another night of ecstasy in his arms, and perhaps, with luck, another triple flip, though I knew enough now not to tell Peter about it. He had put me in this situation, now I had to deal with it. For that aspect of it at least, it was no longer his problem.

“Hi, sweetheart, where've you been?” he asked cheerfully.

“We just got back from ‘21,’” I explained. “We all had a great time.”

“The three of you?” he asked cautiously.

“No, four. We went with Paul. He wanted to
take us out, and he really spoiled the kids. He gave Sam three of the planes over the bar, and bought me and Charlotte everything in sight.”

“And charged it to me?” The voice from California sounded a little weak.

“He said you told him to. Was that all right? The limo too.”

“Limo? What limo?” Peter sounded confused at his end.

“It had a hot tub on the back. Sam thought it was ‘rad.’ “

“I see.” There was a pause while Peter regrouped, and I began to see all the advantages the Klone offered all of us, even the kids. It had been a huge adjustment psychologically, but it was a great arrangement once you got used to it. And I was doing my best to adjust, for Peter's sake. Having a Klone had a lot of merits for everyone, especially me. I had someone to do things with, to go out with the kids with me, someone to talk to and rub my shoulders … and then of course there was the triple flip to contend with. In some ways, I felt very lucky. I was no longer dealing with life entirely on my own. He was a companion of sorts in Peter's absence, albeit an odd one. Although, ever since my admissions to him about my sexual exploits with Paul, Peter seemed to be getting cold feet about the project.

“You know, Steph, I'm not sure you should
go out that publicly with him. A quiet dinner here and there, in little French restaurants on the West Side, an evening with a few friends. But ‘21’ might be pushing it a bit. He's a little conspicuous, don't you think? Or was he wearing one of my suits?”

“Could be,” I smiled, “if you have one with black patent leather pants, and a red patent leather jacket to match, with a silver lame shirt.”

“Let me guess. Versace, right?”

“I think so. He was the perfect host. He's got lunch dates at the University Club with some of your friends this week. They stopped at the table to say hello, and he thought it would be nice to take them to lunch for you.”