Whispers
Romance Books

Lip Service : A Novel by M. J. Rose

At once a sophisticated love story and a psychological thriller, Lip Service is both seductive and sinister. M. J. Rose has crafted an uninhibited narrative that builds to a shocking crescendo. Not since Erica Jong1s Fear of Flying, has a novel so successfully examined the relationship between sexuality and identity. On the surface, Julia Sterling1s life is enviable.

She lives on Manhattan1s tony east side, is married to a renowned psychiatrist, deeply loves her stepson and is forging her career as a journalist. When a writing job exposes Julia to phone sex, she glimpses a world that stirs her erotic fantasies but threatens her carefully constructed reality. As she probes her emotional and sexual connections to the men she knows and several she will never meet, she confronts evil, perversity and her own passions.

Rarely have I read such a successful blend of fiction and psychological insight. This is a compelling, disturbing and deeply satisfying novel - Dr. Mara Gleckel, Author of Ego, Image and Success and Director /Founder of the Women1s Counseling Services of New York.M. J. Rose is the author of the forthcoming Living The Questions and president of Lady Chatterley's Library, a publishing house for fiction written by new women writers, with books available online and in fine bookstores. A former advertising whiz, Rose's commercial for the NYPD is in the broadcasting collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Lip Service is her first novel in the public eye

LIP SERVICE by MJ Rose - all rights reserved. Copywright 1999

I drank what was left of my soda and then wiped my mouth with the paper napkin. "Taking that check would have made me feel like a prostitute," I blurted out. I’d said it because it was true, but as soon as the words had left my lips I realized I’d wanted to broach this subject since Jack had first mentioned his suspicions. I glanced at Sam to gauge his reaction. If I was looking for some tell-tale sign that Jack’s sources were right, I didn’t find it.

"All the more reason for you to cash it. The whole point of you becoming a phone therapist was to understand it first hand. All of it - not just the good parts - but the uncomfortable parts, too." He took the envelope out of his pocket and put it between us on the bench.

Hesitating, I kept my hands in my lap.

"What does being a prostitute represent to you?" he asked.

"Being a worthless woman. Pathetic. Cheap. Degraded."

"Is that what you think or are you just spouting the prevailing moralistic crap?"

"I don’t know, Sam." It was true. I’d never examined the issue before. "What do you think of prostitution?"

"That it’s no more dishonest a profession for some women than being a wife. That it should be legalized. That the Goddamn government should get out of the bedroom unless someone is being hurt.

"Prostitutes - good ones - are multi-talented women. Part shrink. Part mother. Part lover. Many are fulfilled by their jobs. Take pride in their success. And why shouldn’t they? They offer a valuable service, satisfy a difficult need and get paid well for it. What the hell is wrong with that?" He slammed his first down in the palm of his other hand.

Was Sam merely philosophizing or was he defending his business? Considering his principles, either was possible.

"When you put it that way it doesn’t sound that different than phone sex. Do you know a prostitute I could talk to? It might help me with the book," I asked.

He swerved around my question. "Don’t fucking do that. Don’t hide behind ‘the writer’ to avoid the issues you’ve raised about yourself. It’s not wrong to be fascinated with people and their sexuality, Julia." Was he too avoiding an issue or just being the ever-alert therapist? "I’m like that and I’m not ashamed of it. You don’t have to be ashamed of it either. It’s healthy to want to experience your sexuality and understand it all, even the parts of it you think are repulsive." Sam stood up, dropping crumbs on the ground where pigeons were already waiting. "C’mon, let’s walk."

I stood up to and took a step to follow him. And then I turned back. The envelope was still on the bench. A dull brown leaf fell from a chestnut tree and landed beside it. "Wait, I don’t know what the rules are here?" I said.

"There’s only one rule. You can’t get to the end before you get through the middle. Do me a favor, don’t judge me and don’t judge yourself until you’ve gotten to know Alice a little better." Without waiting, he started to walk further into the zoo.

I picked up the check, put it in my bag and followed him.

"Aren’t there any areas of sexual behavior where you make moral judgments?" I asked when I’d caught up.

"Judgments are too limiting. We have to explore our souls and each other’s souls. Sometimes that also means exploring their bodies, but not as if it were a dirty perversion, as if it were a celebration. You can’t learn about everyone as half of a couple across a dinner table."

Having reached the polar bears, both of us stood in awe and watched the giant white animals roar as they pawed the air.

"Some discoveries between people lead to sex, some don’t," Sam continued. "But I think you’ll find getting into someone’s head can be every bit as erotic as having sex with them. You’ll talk to men over the phone for half an hour who you’ll know better than their wives know them - because they’re sharing their secrets with you."

He’d moved the conversation in yet another direction, but it didn’t matter to me anymore. He had been right, I was fascinated. I wanted to understand everything he was saying. It seemed to have so much to do with me. With everything that had been happening to me for the last few weeks.

"Does that mean they’re being unfaithful?" I asked.

"Those terms are too confining. Christ, you can fuck someone with your voice, with your eyes, with one touch of a finger on a wrist. Is all of that being unfaithful?" He’d answered my question with one of his own.

"I don’t know, perhaps it is." I was looking at him, not the bears. He was making such an effort to reach me, I could feel his energy pouring out.

"You can’t take sex out of living no matter how hard you try. You can only dam it up. And that has repercussions. Besides, people relate to each other sexually whether they want to or not, whether they ever admit it or not," he said.

We left the bears and headed out of the zoo.

"Sam, Paul still doesn’t know about the research."

As he examined my face, I continued, trying to explain it to myself as well as to him. "I’ve tried to find the right time to tell him but he’s going through this thing at work."

"The investigation?"

"How do you know?" I asked.

"The New York psychoanalytic community is small. How’s he doing?"

"He says he’s fine but I don’t think he’s telling me the truth. He’s very tense and stressed out. Argumentative. That’s why I haven’t told him."

"That’s the only reason?" Sam asked.

"No, you know it’s not. I’m afraid, well… I don’t think Paul will be able to be objective. He won’t understand. Won’t see any of this as a discovery. He’ll just try to convince me I’m having another breakdown."

"He’ll deny you your feelings?" Sam asked, already knowing the answer and once more surprising me with his uncanny insight.

"Yeah."

"All the more reason you need to tell him what you’re telling me."

"I know."

"No matter how you handle this," he said, "you’re going to have trouble with Paul when he finds out."

"Yeah, I know."

"He’s a man who treasures being in control. He’ll see everything you’ve done as a threat and try to regain his dominance any way he can."

I was going to ask Sam how he knew those things about my husband but all that mattered was that he was right.

By now we were deep in the park, far away from the traffic coursing through its midsection, far away from the more populated paths. I looked around me, at the vivid molting trees, the leaf-strewn roads, but I didn’t recognize any mileposts. I didn’t know where we’d wandered.

"Julia, are you aware I’m attracted to you?"

All I could do was nod. His words had both thrilled me and made me uncomfortable. Did I want to be with Sam that way?

"But I think it’s more important for you and I to channel the energy between us into the book. It would be best served there. For me, but more importantly for you."

"Why do you think so?" I asked, suddenly full of Alice’s bravado.

"A pretty game, my girl / to play with me so long; / Until this other lover / Comes dancing to thy song, / And my affair is over. / It’s called the Flirt," Sam said.

"I haven’t been flirting with you," I insisted.

"Bullshit! You’re flirting with every man you meet now and that’s fine. You’re discovering your sexuality, experimenting with it."

"The last time I did that, I flipped out."

"Was your sexuality actually the cause of your problems?"

He was talking to me as if I were another therapist. "No, the problems were more ego related. I was just acting out my conflicts through sex."

"Then the same thing can’t happen again. You’re not out of touch with your feelings any more. And if you ever do get into trouble again, you’ll recognize the signs and ask for help."

"But I’ve been hiding this part of myself for years."

"So don’t hide it anymore. Explore it. Explore yourself."

"But not with you?" I knew why part of me wanted it to be with him - he was a therapist – if he was guiding me, he’d there to catch me if I fell. With anyone else I’d have to take risks.

"Yes, with me but as my collaborator," he responded.

"You’re saying writing the book with you would be some kind of exploration for me?"

"Hasn’t it been one already?"

"Yeah, and some kind of therapy, too." I smiled.

Up ahead was a green field studded with lemon and vermilion leaves, it looked like an abstract painter had been let loose in the park. Nature wasn’t quiet or calm anymore. The riot of fall colors had completely changed the park’s atmosphere.

"Most discovery is therapeutic. That’s why you don’t have to fear it. I know Freud said sexual desires and differences were based on neurosis but I don’t believe that. My hypothesis - and boy have I received shit for it - it that left to our own devices our sexual natures would help, not hinder us. The freer people are sexually, the more creative they become. Repression is what leads to neurosis."

We were surrounded by a grove of tall evergreens. Shafts of afternoon sun filtered through the trees and somewhere in the distance a dog barked.

"You know, you’ve managed to do exactly what I was trying to prevent you from doing; analyzing me," I said.

"Maybe I am just being your friend. Why don’t you try not to assign definitions or make judgments for awhile. Just open yourself up to the discoveries you’re making and see where they lead."

We’d left the circle of trees and came out on a path I recognized. Suddenly I knew where we were. The 84th street exit was just up ahead. "I get off here."

"Think about what I said, Julia."

I looked at Sam’s leathery face. "I don’t think I’ll be able to do much else."

He smiled. I saw a friend. And a collaborator. And a lover I’d never know. If I felt a pang of regret, it was quickly replaced by a sense of excitement. If this was an adventure, Sam was proving to be a formidable guide.

After we said good-bye and parted, I kept walking. Just before I crossed the road toward the exit I looked back, but Sam had vanished.

I focused on the layers of dried-out leaves beneath my feet, getting drunk on the colors. Even though the reds and oranges and yellows meant the leaves were dying and winter was coming, I didn’t mind. Another new season would alter the landscape yet again. In the snow it would be even easier to lose sight of the old landmarks and for some reason that idea thrilled me.

Copyright © M. J. Rose. All rights reserved.