Page 90 of Down and Dirty

No one seemed to care much. Leastways they did not try to talk her into staying.

But then JAM said, “We were crude. Maybe you should go after her, Pretty Boy.”

“Hah! She was feelin’ up my family jewels under the table. She can’t be too offended by crudity.”

Britta turned to Zachary. “You have family jewels?”

Once again, everyone at the table laughed, presumably at a joke she did not understand.

“Oh, yeah,” Zach replied.

“Can I see them?”

“Oh, yeah.”

The laughter increased.

Zachary leaned close to her ear. “Family jewels refers to my… uh, package.”

She frowned. “Package. What package?”

Zachary rolled his eyes, took her hand, and placed it over his manpart, which began to grow under her fingers. She jerked her hand away.

“Linda was correct. You are all crude.”

The men, including Zachary, grinned as if she’d given them a compliment.

“The best sex I ever had,” Sly related, as if that had aught to do with the subject at hand, “was with a showgirl who could stand against the wall on one leg and lift the other leg straight up in the air, perpendicular to the floor.” He paused. “Naked, of course.”

Zachary looked at her.

“Not in a million years!”

“We’ll see.”

“We will not see.”

“That’s nothin’,” Cage added to the conversation. “I got it on one time with a gymnast who could stay in a backbend position, like forever, and—”

“What did you say about gymnasts?” Terri asked. She and Britta’s other friends had just walked up to the table, waving to Britta and the others. “I used to be a gymnast.”

“No kidding!” Cage smiled, but before he could say more, JAM said, “Have a seat, honey.” He gave her his chair, saying something teasingly to Cage in the process, something about ‘You snooze, you lose, bow-zo.’” Soon the men were pulling another table closer so that their now large group could sit together.

Even Dill-land, whose name was actually Dylan, came over to join them, much to Zachary’s displeasure, even though Dylan gave most of his attention to Donita, which seemed to annoy Sly, who had done naught but goad and taunt Donita in the past. In any case, Dylan greeted one and all by saying, “How-dee,” and winked at Britta. That, too, brought a growl out of Zachary’s tight mouth.

They all dined then on a feast. Two large rounds of manchet bread covered with a red sauce and cheese. Wings — and only the wings — of a chicken, but so hot one needed tons of ale to wash them down. A large tray of salted sticks called French fries made from the potato, a vegetable she’d never heard of afore, although it apparently came to this country from Frankland. A big platter of notch-hose, which were crispy thin chips covered with melted cheese. And two racks of pig ribs swimming in a sweet and sour red sauce, which was very messy to eat but delicious.

After that, the musicians began to play again. First off was a raucous song called “That Old Time Rock ’n’ Roll,” which prompted Cage to yell across the table, “Yo, Marie.”

She glanced up with surprise from a conversation she’d been having with Dylan.

“Wanna show these Yankees how ta dance?”

She looked skeptical.

“Yer Cajun, aintcha?”

“Yeaaaah.”