Natalie was one of the liberal young, and though her modernity had irritated Liz, the older woman was frankly quite interested in hearing more. Before she had married Tom, she had given way to her sensual urges by massaging her nipples and touching herself down between her legs, but she had always felt terribly guilty afterwards. She had never heard any other woman openly admit that she had done it, either before or after marriage, and her own problems with Tom and the needs of her body that she had been made acutely aware of for some months now were too great for her to deny Natalie the opportunity to talk more about it. "Kevin, will you put the shish kebab on to broil, dear?" she asked her son, who had just finished plopping three large olives into his glass of martini. "Since there's no room for the martini in your glass," she teased, "Fill mine, and you can take the pitcher with you!"

"Slave driver," was all he said as he filled her glass and his own in between the olives, then left for the kitchen, sipping.

"Doesn't it bother Kevin if you, uh, try to satisfy yourself in-in any other way?" Liz could not keep herself from asking, leaning across the table and whispering.

"No, never," Natalie said brightly. "As a matter of fact, he thinks it's a great way!"

"Well, I'm glad he approves," Liz said weakly, feeling her legs shake with weakness, a strange sensation, as though she would collapse if she were standing up.

After yet another martini and the shish kebab, and even another martini although she knew that three was the absolute limit in any one night. Two was safer even. But tonight it took four to make her feel completely relaxed. By then she was sure she had been needlessly uneasy about Natalie earlier. She was sure that she, his mother, had retained her son's devotion and love, if not his sexual interests. Liz startled herself. Sexual interests? Why in God's name should she be concerned about his sexual interests? No, Liz was feeling a marvelous tingle of warmth and it had to be for the young couple.