"GLIMPSES OF ARETHUSA"
by David Watmough

According  to  one Greek legend...the river-god Alpheus fell
in love with  the  nymph  Arethusa  when  she  bathed in his
stream in Arcadia.  She fled from him and was changed into a
fountain (by Artemis).  In her contemporary  re-incarnation,
allowing for the extreme distortions of my fiction, Arethusa
is  viewed  in  eight  or  nine  seriatim  "glimpses" - from
childhood  and  adolescence  in  Vancouver,  B.C.   (as  the
sexually high-strung  daughter  of  a  Presbyterian pastor),
through young motherhood and rampant promiscuity in  eastern
Canada,  to  maturity  as a business executive in Vienna and
London.  All of  this,  however,  is  filtered and perceived
through the eyes of her close friend, Davey, who  is  a  gay
man.  It was the author's intention to create a modern woman
who  is  highly  ambitious in a still male dominated world -
but NOT prepared  to  sacrifice  her  femininity in order to
exercise  power  as  a  total  woman  in  the  business  and
political realms that still obtain as our century dies..

These autobiographical fragments of my  Arethusa`s  mercuric
progress,  so  far  seen  only  on  The  Internet,  are each
intended to stand as short  stories in their own right.  The
basic inspiration derived from  my  Hellenistic  reflections
which resulted in the current short story collection HUNTING
WITH  DIANA,  With  me, one book always seems to spin out of
its predecessor.

David Watmough,
June 1, 1996
Vancouver, B.C.  Canada


ALL SORTS & CONDITIONS OF MEN
by David Watmough

APT.504, 341 RIDEAU DRIVE,

OTTAWA, CANADA

"Zeus really loves it here,  Davey.  He is much happier than
in Toronto.  For one thing he sees much more of me as I find
I work more from home than I  did  there.   For  another  he
adores  the  Third  Minister  at  the Portuguese Embassy who
visits us regularly.  Well  visits  ME,  I mean, but Gustavo
adores children and actually pleads to baby-sit little  Zeus
if  I  have  to go out.  Not that it turns out that way very
often as Gustavo only comes  here  for  dinner and a fuck as
Madame de Lacerda refuses to believe  that  her  husband  is
detained  - even at a Portuguese embassy - later than eleven
o'clock at night..

I have to tell you that after only nine months in this place
and at twenty-five, I am  of the conviction that the foreign
men I am regularly meeting, mostly diplomats, are infinitely
more resourceful and  satisfying  in  bed  than  our  native
types.    Nor   is  it  just  a  matter  of  Latinos  versus
Anglo-Saxons.  One of the  great  advantages of an otherwise
definitely second-rate capital like Ottawa or Canberra, i.e.
separated  from  a  mammoth  city,   is   the   variety   of
full-blooded  males  it  attracts.   There  is a substantial
quotient of your own  type,  of  course, but they are mainly
civil  servants  and  bureaucrats   but   the   ambassadors,
secretaries,  attache's,  etc.   for  the most part brim over
with their simmering heterosexuality.  Poor dears, they seem
to meet  so  few  attractive  yet  available  women in their
public lives away from their homes.   And  the  variety!   I
mention  hairy  Gustavo  with his wondrously thick dick, and
the half French-Canadian Alan who  is a faithful if slightly
decorous "in-and- outer" who concentrates when he is  in-ing
and  out-ing  and  yet  at the same time provides refreshing
respect for a woman's  orgasm.   But  in more than one sense
even such fulfilling lovers pale against the erotic contours
and dynamic performances of, for  instance,  the  Senegalese
ambassador,  the  Military  Attache'  of  Bangladesh, and the
Charge' d`Affaires of the United Emirate Protectorates whom I
see quite a lot.

You know I am not  a  snob  in these matters, Davey.  I have
always taken to heart what Daddy used to call in his sermons
in that horrible Presbyterian church in  Vancouver  where  I
grew  up,  "All  sorts  and  conditions  of men." Nor am I a
tyrant.  I do not expect more of a man than he is capable of
supplying.  And as in  so  many  areas  of  life - not least
publishing - comparisons can be  not  just  odious  but  can
stink  to high heaven.  Even so, honesty demands that I tell
you ( in lieu of the  whole wide world) that after this stay
here among the Diplomatic Corps I feel I  am  no  longer  an
absolute  sexual  amateur!   As  I  have  been  learning the
further   intricacies   of   publishing,   particularly  the
international aspect of things, so I also feel  that  Ottawa
is  a  town where I have been subject to valuable lessons in
the more physical realms  -  where  I  can both serve my own
demanding body and at the same time learn how to  interweave
its  erotic  appetites  with  those  of an independent woman
pursuing her ambitions in the Land of Men.  This is a lesson
I`m sure I wouldn`t have  learned had I stayed in Vancouver,
even though I still miss you enormously  as  my  friend  and
confidante.

But  males  generally  and  the unending machinations at the
office apart, it  is  little  Zeus  who  looms largest in my
Ottawa existence.  What a divine child he is!  It is  really
quite  hard  to explain, Davey.  I mean I`m not just talking
as a doting mother though I`m  quite aware I am all of that.
But he makes me think of much more than the row of delicious
tiny bubbles on those perfect little lips, or the unexpected
smile that could melt the moon.  All those, I  suppose,  are
the universal lure of babies.  But it is the alchemy of Zeus
with  my  men visitors that leads me furthest down the paths
of self-knowledge.  Perhaps, who knows, even towards a vague
kind of wisdom where  understanding  men when freed from the
trappings of their power and play-acting their status.  Just
now I told you about the joys of sexual diversity that comes
from knowledge of the various human tribes and  sub-species.
But  there  is  an  even  greater  pleasure from seeing Zeus
soften and crumble  the  hard  carapace  that men exercising
authority think they  have  to  wear  in  order  to  survive
successfully..   And  don`t  tell me that they abandon their
persona with their wives because I know otherwise.  The very
relationship signifying monogamy  denies  the possibility of
such biological honesty as the fact that men come  fast  and
after  climax  think quickly whereas women, though slower in
the  act,  are  inclined   to  dawdle  reflectively  in  the
aftermath.  Perceived by  them  as  an  attractive  slut  or
wanton  I  offer  no strings of biological pretense but they
are still too programmed by  their mothers to really be free
in thought and articulated feeling.  Yet when they  face  my
little sentinel, Zeus, at the threshold of my desirous body,
their masculine pretenses either consolidate or fall away.

Does  that  sound  fanciful?   Let  me put it in more homely
terms.  (I tend to forget,  darling ,that your own knowledge
of Straight Man is far less than mine and that it  us  women
you  gays  best fathom.) Take Alan Flews,M.P.  When he comes
to see me he  not  only  asks  to  see Zeus first but always
brings him a rather expensive gift.  Now that is not being a
generous father figure  or  practicing  for  his  obligatory
married future, but is merely an extension of political life
where  baby  kissing  is  de  rigueur.  It is also very much
connected - although in  the  nicest  undeceitful way - with
addressing me, the woman whom he has come to fuck and forget
the day's grime, who just happens to be a mother.

Now compare him with  my  pal,  His  hot-to-trot  Portuguese
Excellency,  the  thick  dick Octavo, or even more my Charge'
d`Affaires of the  United  Arab  Emirates  (he  of the bushy
pubics   and   eyebrows   which   in   texture   might    be
interchangeable.)  He  is a thoroughly nice man, mind you, a
sexual athlete  yet  who  remains  dignified  until the last
grunt.  Yet I can never get over the  impression  that  with
little  Zeus he is somehow phony.  Of course, there may well
be a cultural element at  work here but that doesn't explain
it sufficiently for my suspicious (where Zeus is  concerned)
eyes.   Gustavo greets my son formally and says he will have
a chat with him before  departure  - a promise that is never
kept as he falls asleep after ejaculation and by the time  I
am  up  and about again it is time to rouse him and send him
packing in the  direction  of  Senhora  de Lacerda.  But old
pubics, as I am wont to call him - did I tell you he gets  a
kick  out  of  my pulling at them with my teeth?  - there is
always an insistence that  he  now  sit at Zeus` bedside and
provide him with  a  few  homilies  and  admonitions  before
making  his  farewells.   It is just possible they do things
like that with mistresses who are mothers, back there in the
desert under the palms  or  something.   But I cannot escape
the notion that it is nothing to do with climate or terrain,
nothing to do with the tenets of Islam or the fact he is the
father of thirteen children.   But  everything  to  do  with
Pubics longing to show a western woman that beneath all that
chest  hair  (he  really  is like a musk ox) beats a Daddy's
tender heart.

But Zeus isn't taken in,  just stares at him impassively and
I feel my son is telling me that this man who once  told  me
that  he  is  quite  impervious to the presence of water and
happy  with  the  aridity  of  the  shifting  dunes,  is not
intended  for  me  than  other  as  a  temporary  if  exotic
diversion.  Not that any of them including the singles, have
ever suggested a permanent relationship or that I have  ever
hankered  for  a second to share Zeus with them in my house.
Have I made  myself  clear,  dear  Davey?   I  love the taut
bodies of men, love their sexual diversity and fill a  great
need is fulfilled when they are hungrily questing inside me.
But  there  it  ends.   Zeus  and  I  are a complete psychic
relationship without the trespass  of a third party.  Mother
and son, The Madonna and Child.  They are surely symbols  of
fulfillment.    These   thoughts   are  not  intended  as  a
confession - even less as  an  apologia.  More a term report
on my progress through  life.   I  have  not  by  any  means
finished  my professional tasks here in Ottawa although I do
think I have exhausted the sexual terrain to my satisfaction
and am ready to accept my  destiny  in terms of moving on to
fresh  pastures.   With  fondest  love  from  Zeus  and  his
determined Mum to our spiritual little brother - Arethusa.