C^{onsenting Adults Attempt Record
by D. E. Fredd}

Louise Glickmann and I started humping a little before eight on a Saturday evening. She's Jewish and pretty religious so she was skittish about fooling around until after sunset. We'd just begun seeing one another, maybe a half dozen dates over a few months, so the early stages of our foreplay were a bit awkward. Plus, at well over forty, neither of us is a spring chicken anymore. Yet, we found a nice, comfortable rhythm, my double bed shoved against the far wall notwithstanding. Surprisingly, we kept going most of the night and into early morning. It helped that we each had a sense of humor about a few things, changed positions frequently and took a break for snacks and calls of nature. Each time one of us began to flag the other said, "I can keep going if you can," and we went back at it with renewed vigor.

By late Sunday afternoon we got to thinking, "Why not go for twenty-four hours straight?" We figured, why the hell not because we weren't hurting anybody and having quite a bit of pleasure besides. The rule became that as long was we were genitally connected either by touch or penetration, however slight, it would count towards intercourse.

Well, wouldn't you know, we got caught up in our ardor and soon it was 2:00 AM Monday morning. The practical world reared its ugly head because Lou had used up most of her sick days at Cast-Com. We started to wind things down, expressing gratitude to each other for a great time, but all good things must come to an end. Then I got to joking about what the Guinness Book of Records might be for this type of activity so we, still linked, mind you, sex walked downstairs to the book shelf and tried to look it up. Right, there ain't no such animal so I was about to unhook my hawser and cast off, if you catch my drift, when I had an idea. "Hold the phone. Let's take a pee and shower break, lay in a good supply of lubricant and invent a new category, I saw where that's always being done."

She hesitated but then said, "You're on," and in two shakes we were up the stairs and having at each other like there was no tomorrow.

We kept it up for three days with little sweat. We were down to using Wesson oil to prevent chafing and running a bit low on Fritos but, other than that, things were going smoothly. Neither of us had ever been married or lived with anybody so we were getting the condensed version of what it might be like. Between naps we talked. You can learn more about another person when you're screwing than any other activity. There's no pretense. Everything is laid out there for the world to see, warts and all.

By Friday, though, it was touch and go for a while because we started to bicker. That can happen when you're intimate for so long. I'm afraid I initiated it by saying, offhandedly, that she had the better go of it because sex is easier for a woman, what with the missionary position and all. She just has to lie there, but the man is always doing the equivalent of a few hundred pushups and indeed mystomach muscles were beginning to cramp and my chronic back starting to spasm.

She was bawling saying her legs had been up in the air so long she'd lost all feeling from the knees on down plus, last Wednesday, she had faked all her orgasms. I was also blamed for thinking up this event. "We're not making love; you're just using me to get into that stupid record book!"

I admit we were a sorry looking couple, something like Jane Fonda and Michael Sarrazin at the end of the movie,They Shoot Horses, Don't They? Physically and mentally we were ready to call it a day. I decided we both needed to rest so we revisited the spooning position and slept the sleep of the dead for a good twelve hours. When we were wide awake the next day and had a nice meal of microwavable potato skins and pizza rolls and in better moods, I suggested we take it one step at a time from here on. We had already surpassed the one week mark. Two weeks was undoubtedly ridiculous, but we each felt ten days, which would make it Tuesday evening around eight, was quite doable.

To cut to the chase, we actually went a day and a half past our goal. Willpower was a key and the pep talks we gave each other, although I will admit that we were napping a lot and that helped pass the time more quickly.

It was a very emotional time when we finally broke our intimacy. We hugged, cried and, to my surprise, Lou wanted to have a final roll in the hay, a victory dance if you will, just for old time's sake. So we had our quickie, dressed and went out for Italian at Cafe Pavone. We sat next to each other holding hands, joking with as to what the tables next to us would say if they knew what we'd been doing for close to two weeks.

Louise went back to work fully recovered from her bout with the "Flu." I'm self-employed (window treatments-twenty per cent off all Hunter-Douglas products this month) so I had fewer responsibilities. We decided we needed a week to ourselves but figured a phone call a day wouldn't violate anyone's space. I got cracking on the Guinness angle and was met by the least friendly of their phone reps. First of all, I tried to be polite by beating around the bush to explain what we had done. I got nowhere until I used some very earthy terms which evidently got the point across with the admin assistant.

"Well, if you fucked your asses off for two weeks, why didn't you just say so twenty minutes ago? Neither of us is getting any younger."

"I just want you to send me paperwork so I can fill it out."

"You're kidding of course, yanking my chain?"

"No, Louise and I actually managed to do it for eleven and one half days straight. We'll both swear to it or get something notarized if you want."

"Have you ever read our book? What wacko world do you come from? We don't print that kind of shit. Next thing you know we'll have thousands of guys lined up outside our door all wanting their dicks measured. If you got laid for two weeks, I'm happy for you, but don't ever call here again."

I was infuriated over how she treated me, the coarse language she used and the demeaning tone. I felt like two cents. There was no way I could tell Louise how that young woman had debased what we had done. I'd only knownLou for two months but, given our unique relationship, I knew that she'd either go down there and rip the girl's head off or weep to the point of collapse.

I took a stroll, as I usually do when faced with a crisis, and turned things over and over in my mind. One thing was certain; I knew I couldn't let our pilgrimage go to waste. We had gone through so much together. One has no idea of the courage and just plain old fashioned guts it took for two relative nobodies in their mid-forties to do what we did. Hour after hour, day after day, orgasm after orgasm, undaunted, we kept plugging away at it. I knew, just as I didn't give up during the tough times of our sexual odyssey, that I couldn't give up having the world learn what two average people can do when faced with a challenge. Then it hit me like a tons of bricks. I loved Louise! I remember saying it out loud and having people in the street stare at me. I would fight city hall to the very end. It would be my gift to her. It was the least I could do after what we'd been through.

The plan I came up with was beautiful in its simplicity. Who needed the Guinness Book of Records? Sure, they had tacky museums in every major tourist trap and a television show, but Lou and I were like David to their Goliath. I decided to compile my own book, and it would be for records like ours. If a man had a long penis or a woman had big beasts, why not take measurements and put their attributes in the book, pictures included.

I knew it would sell, The Big Book of Human Sexuality Records. It would be tastefully done. This would not be some Larry Flynt production. Louise would see to that. We could be partners in bed and at work. She always said how much she hated her boss and the way he ran the company. Now was her chance to break free. But, as much as I hated to admit it, the Guinness lady had a point. Documentation was everything. I had slipped up when I hadn't videotaped Lou and me in bed. It was a stretch for anyone to believe that we could stay "connected" for that long. Then it hit me. We'd done it once; why not recreate it, this time with cameras running. Reality shows do it all the time. We could sell it as a pilot to some cable channel. It could be syndicated. Lou and I would head the production company. Each time a couple broke our record another twosome would take their place. It was golden.

I was on cloud nine. I had called Louise that morning before she went to work just to say hello. I knew 1'd used up our self-imposed ration of one call per day and that I was never to call her at work, but my mind was on fire. This was too good to be true.

The switchboard reluctantly put me through. She sounded distant. "Is this a bad time?",/p>

"You weren't supposed to call me here; there's a strict policy on personal phone calls." I could hear her muffle the receiver and explain to someone that it was her doctor, and the results of a few tests were back.

She came back on the line in a low whisper. "Okay, keep it short. I'll probably say things out of context to keep up an act because a certain bald supervisor and other accounting department people who don't believe the flu story for a minute might be listening."

,p>"I called Guinness. They thought it was stupid plus they don't print things like that."

"This is the big bombshell you called me about?"

"I have this idea. First of all I want to tell you that I love you. I discovered it today. It's too long a story to say how I found out, but I really know I do. I feel so close to you."

Her voice was lowered and had a slight catch to it. "I think I might feel the same way, doctor, but maybe we need to wait a few more months before we do anything drastic. "

"Now that you know how I feel about you I want to explain my idea. It's something that will bring us closer than any couple has ever been."

"I appreciate your sentiment, doctor, but quite possibly you should call me at home tonight. We can discuss when and where might be the proper time and place to further evaluate your proposal."

"It's not a proposal in that sense, Lou, although I guess it could be. I really wasn't thinking along those lines. This is a business proposition, a partnership based on what we just went through. You see, I want to publish my own record book, the Louise and Raymond Book of Records. It would cover things about sex that Guinness won't touch. We'd be the stars, but there'd be big penises, breasts, orgasm intensity-the sky's the limit. The only little thing is that we might have to do our bedroom marathon again and videotape it for evidence purposes. This will give the project integrity. But the book is just the tip of the iceberg. We'll have a-Louise? Louise, did skin head Barlow figure out ... ?

Sometimes, when you turn off a TV set, the picture fades to a single point of light in the exact center of the screen. It remains for a few seconds and then disappears into the blackness. That's Louise. Or me. Or both.