MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER NINETY TWO:

CRAZY JANE

Written by Rick Archer 

LIMBO MONTH TWENTY ONE
MARCH 1981

A VERY UNUSUAL WOMAN

 

Following my close call with Ammonia at the end of February, the following week was the start of the March dance semester.  Time marches on.  Just when I thought the flamboyant Ammonia was irreplaceable, a new woman appeared who was even more outrageous.  Crazy Jane was part of my new Leisure Learning Twostep class on Wednesday.  I was flabbergasted when a group of 50 Beginner students showed up.  Considering our room held 40 people, this was going to be a real challenge.  While I waited for Miss Moneypenny to finish signing everyone up, I took their minds off the crowding problem by telling them stories about the nearby Winchester Club and our upcoming Graduation Night at the end of March.  Showing great wisdom, I made sure to omit sharing the Ammonia drama that had made last week's Graduation Night particularly memorable.

As I surveyed the new students, I did a double take.  There was a woman in our class with a Barbie Doll figure.  Ordinarily I would not write two stories in a row about a woman's chest size.  However, everyone knows that large breasts come in pairs, so why not?  Jane was a tall, statuesque brunette.  There had been women with large breasts in my classes before, but Jane was one of a kind.  Jane was not some oversized plumpette, but rather a woman with a thin waist to go with a preposterous chest.  Imagine if Barbie was a real woman.  Her unrealistic physical proportions would make her stand 6 feet tall, weigh 100 pounds, have a 39-inch bust, a 19-inch waist, and slender hips.  Jane wasn't quite that extreme, but close.  Jane was a freak of nature.  Her breasts were so large relative to her thin waist that I marveled she didn't topple over. 

In addition to her outsized chest, Jane possessed a over-the-top personality to match.  Throughout our March class, Jane was the life of the party.  A born extrovert, Jane craved the limelight.  As if we didn't notice her already, Jane liked to make sly comments that kept our attention on her.  Each week Jane would say something outrageous or do something goofy to make the class roar.  Jane was what you might call the 'Class Clown'.  Anything for a laugh.

At this point, my dance studio resembled the hit TV show Cheers.  In particular, a core group of 50 people had wrapped their entire social life around the studio just as people wrapped their lives around Cheers bar.  Whenever a month of classes ended, the Nifty Fifty would automatically register for the next month of classes, no persuasion necessary.  None of these students would dream of dropping out.  The studio was where their friends were.  And, yes, everyone knew their name.

As we recall, Cheers was notable as the watering hole for a cast of oddball characters.  Each episode revolved around the foibles of these quirky nutcases.  Ditto for my studio.  The dance studio had acquired a collection of characters just as unique and entertaining as the stars of Cheers.  Bob Job, the Mad Scientist, was one of those characters.  Judy Price, the lady who helped develop the Western Swing.  Tom Easley who kept us in stitches with his droll, tongue-in-cheek complaints about losing the Talent Show to Yogi, the guy who fiddled on his back with his legs crossed yoga-style.  Even Victoria was starting to come out of her shell.  And let us not forget Chuck Clayton.  Chuck kept us entertained with his reckless pursuit of every pretty girl. 

If ever someone belonged on Cheers, it would have to be Crazy Jane.  Her Barbie Doll figure alone guaranteed at least three punch lines per episode.  Jane would do anything for a laugh.   Demandning to be the center of attention, my Wednesday Beginner Twostep class had turned into the 'Crazy Jane Show'.   It did not take long for me to catch on that Jane had a ready comeback for anything I might say.  For example, Jane might have the class in stitches over her latest antic.  When things calmed down, I would say something like, "Jane, you are fast becoming a legendary figure."  Jane would retort, "Honey, I've been a legendary figure since the 8th grade."  And the class would roar.  You know me.  Well aware that laughter is a wonderful tool, I made it a point to set Jane up for a quip every chance I got.

At the time when Jane first appeared, my dance program was undergoing a swift metamorphosis.  Stevens of Hollywood was the last place my students wanted hang out.  In the old days of one-hour classes at Stevens of Hollywood, there were no breaks during class.  Nor was it comfortable to stick around and chat.  For example, the 8 pm class needed the 7 pm room.  The 9 pm class needed the 8 pm room.  Students needed to clear out.  In addition, the chill cast by Lance Stevens made people want to arrive late and leave as fast as possible.

Things were different now.  I gave credit to the Winchester Club plus our move to Dance Arts for accelerating our growing sense of Community.  Starting in January, the studio turned into a social organization as well as a dance studio.  The opportunity to hang out with their friends was the main reason the veterans continued taking lessons even though they were accomplished dancers at this point.  Now that Dancing was in their blood, the studio became home away from home.  Glen Hunsucker did not mind the big crowds at all.  He simply closed the door to the room where he taught his jazz class and let us have the run of the place. 

My new Two-hour class format played a big role in the community-building process.  This format was a blessing for those who lived in the suburbs.  Many students began to wrap their entire night around the studio.  They could leave their office and come relax at the studio till class started.  Students were welcome to come early and sit on couches in the hallway to chat with friends.  6-7 pm quickly turned into a social hour.  And since there were no 9-10 pm classes, the moment class ended many students drove down to the Winchester or another club for an hour of practice and chitchat before heading home. 

The biggest change was 'Break Time'.  It did not take long to realize two hours was far too long to go without intermission.  So I bought a giant gong and pounded it to signal the start of 'Break Time'.  Theoretically Break Time was a brief ten-minute stretch where people could use the restroom and get a drink of water.  To my surprise, Break Time turned into something very special.  To begin with, my students asked if I would play music in their classroom during Break Time.  This gave everyone a chance to practice on their own.  Or they would use the time to catch up on gossip with friends.  Still others used the time to strike up a conversation with a classmate who might be a romantic possibility.  My students absolutely loved Break Time.  In fact, they loved it so much that Break Time lasted closer to 20 minutes.  Why was that?  There were so many people to talk to and dance with, I had trouble herding them back to class.  Finally I gave up trying to limit our Break to 10 minutes.  From now on Break Time would last 20 minutes.  No one minded.  Break Time was such a favorite event, I teased that it was a shame to interrupt their break with the second hour of dance lessons.  Everyone agreed.

During Break Time in Jane's first night of class, some guy had the audacity to ask her to dance.  While she danced, three men watched her like a hawk.  Curious, I drifted close enough to overhear them offer a running commentary on Jane's breasts.  In particular, the men wanted to know if they were real.  A legitimate question.  Jane was a freak of nature with an ultra-slender waist that dramatically accentuated her absurd chest.  Considering how her breasts jiggled and bounced around when she danced, there wasn't much doubt about their authenticity.  In the process we became cross-eyed tracking the random movements of the twin towers.  Jane was a major distraction.  Everyone in the class, women included, was fascinated by this larger than life woman.  Ordinarily I would not spend so much time discussing such an odd subject, but I have my reasons.  Jane's ample breasts would one day become studio history.

MARCH 1981

JANE'S GIRLFRIENDS

 

I was very drawn to Jane, so I made an attempt to learn more about her.  First, Jane was an elementary school teacher.  Second, Jane enjoyed talking about her breasts.  Third, Jane would do anything for attention.  Fourth, no man could keep his eyes off Jane's chest.  That included me.Due to her drop dead figure, people initially referred to her as 'Jayne Mansfield'.  However the moment she began keeping us in stitches with her wild personality and sexual innuendos, her nickname switched to 'Crazy Jane'. 

From the moment I saw Jane, impure thoughts flooded my mind.  I knew full well that women resent being treated like sex objects, but I was fairly helpless.  In my defense, I was already trigger-happy with lust.  My prolonged Limbo status and my recent disappointment with Ammonia had created a thirst that could not be quenched.  There is an old Hindu proverb.  If a pickpocket were to see a saint, the only thing he would notice would be the yogi's pockets.  As for Jane, for a while there all I could see were her breasts. 

Jane stood tall, 5' 9" with measurements somewhere around 40-25-34.  Since Jane was so tall, one would think we made easy eye contact.  Unfortunately I don't recall the color of her eyes.  I guess we know the reason for that.  It is embarrassing to admit I could not stop looking, but I swear those breasts had magnets in them.  As for keeping my eyes where they belonged, Jane did not help.  Jane knew the effect her body had on men and showed no mercy.  She deliberately wore low-cut dresses or tight blouses with the top buttons open, thereby increasing the distraction no end.

Whenever I was able to focus my eyes where they belonged, I noticed Jane was an attractive lady with a wild mop of long, wavy, untamed dark brown hair.  I am not sure Jane understood the concept of hair clip.  Whenever I turned her, Jane's long hair flew in every direction.  Sometimes when I turned her with one hand, I would sneak a peek at her breasts and get hit in smack in the face with her hair.  Served me right. 

Jane was the noisiest woman I ever met.  Sassy, brassy and outgoing, I knew where Jane was in the room even when my back was turned.  Due to her good looks, constant chatter, motley hair and Wonder Woman figure, Jane dominated the room.  It was not just me.  Including the women, no one ever took their eyes off Jane for long.  Due to her unusual dimensions, outsized personality and ribald sense of humor, Jane risked making a caricature of herself.  Indeed for the first two weeks of class Jane came across strictly as a comedy act.  However, behind the mask it turned out Jane was a very interesting person.  I made this discovery in a disconcerting way. 

To begin with, I could barely put my hand around Jane's back without her breasts touching my chest.  Mind you, I have long arms, but it didn't matter.  As we danced, those soft breasts bounced all over the place, invariably ricocheting off the arm that held her or off my chest.  Jane reminded me of Ammonia, another woman whose breasts had a life of their own.  However, unlike Ammonia, Jane wasn't trying to make contact.  Her proportions made it unavoidable.  Dancing with Jane made me very nervous.  I had never had a woman's breasts automatically touch me before, but then I had never danced with a woman shaped quite like Jane.  I was alarmed every time one of her breasts made contact.  What would she think? 

Fortunately, Jane was not at all self-conscious about the frequent brushing.  Jane struck me as proud of her figure.  I concluded this because she flaunted her curves in several ways.  Any time she caught me looking, she would just smile that little smile of hers.  Other times she would make a quip that would turn me red.  In a way, even her nonchalance bothered me.  Women have every right to be indignant over any kind of breast contact, especially if it seems deliberate rather than incidental.  Trust me, women are adamant about where a man's hands belong on the dance floor.  I was accustomed to women who demanded respect for their space.  But Jane was different.  I had never danced with a lady who was so seemingly unconcerned about the touching.  Unlike Ammonia who used her breasts as a weapon to gain a man's attention, Jane treated her breasts like two pets allowed to roam around without a leash. 

In our second class, something truly embarrassing happened to me.  Without looking, I reached for Jane's right hand with my left hand.  However, due to my blind left eye, I did not realize Jane had just turned her body to a different angle.  Her right hand was not where it was supposed to be.  Guess what took its place?  Somehow my left hand collided solidly with Jane's right breast.  This was not a glancing blow, it was a direct hit.  Feeling my hand enter forbidden territory, I whirled my head in horror to see what was wrong.  I was shocked to see my fingertips disappear into the folds of her soft bosom.  Oh my God, what have I done?!  Mortified by my mistake, my hand recoiled as if I had touched a burning ember.  This sort of thing had never happened before and I fully expected the Wrath of the Furies to descend.

Thank goodness, Jane was seemingly unconcerned.  Noticing my distraught look, Jane simply laughed. 

"Hey, Rick, calm down.  I know it was not intentional.  You had your head turned and I've got big boobs, so big deal.  If I want to dance, then I have to accept the girlfriends will get in the way.  Don't worry about it.  Just hold me like you mean business and throw me around like you do the other ladies.  If you touch me the wrong way, call it an occupational hazard."

Jane's reassurance helped considerably.  Once I realized Jane didn't seem too upset over what would have been treated as a serious offense by any other woman, I relaxed and got used to her 'girlfriends'.  Well, not completely.  Let's just say I realized I did not need to apologize every time something happened.  Unfortunately, I could not get the memory of touching her breast in such an intimate way to stop haunting me.  My hand longed for another accident, but guilt made me especially careful to avoid letting it happen again.  Easier said than done.  I was especially unable to ignore those breasts when they started moving.  This too was very embarrassing.  I mean, give me a break, whenever we danced, Jane's untamed breasts would rise and fall in a gentle rhythmic motion resembling an ocean swell.  Up and down, up and down.  I found myself utterly hypnotized.  It was like dancing with a scantily-clad Playboy Centerfold.  Plus Jane wore those outfits deliberately, I was sure of it.  I tried not to look but I couldn't help it.  With all that movement in plain sight due to her low-cut dress, I was expected one of her 'girlfriends' would attain freedom from her bra at any moment.  If so, I didn't want to miss the grand opening. 

I realize my lady Readers must be up in arms at this point.  Please don't be mad.  I beg your forgiveness.  All I can say in my defense is that every man in the class had the same problem.  Jane was easily the most voluptuous woman I had ever danced with in my life.  I promise I did not simply stare.  But I will admit that every now and then I just had to peek.  I tried not to be obvious, but at least once a night I would lose my concentration and stare in stupefied appreciation.  Jane would catch me looking every time, then give me a hard time about it.  "Whatcha looking at, Rick?"  Whenever she grinned or made a smart-ass comment, I would turn red with embarrassment.  Jane would laugh at my obvious discomfort.  Clearly Jane was something of a tease.  This was a game she enjoyed playing.

However, it turned out Jane had a serious side as well.  On the third class of the month, there was another incident where Jane caught me staring downward during my turn to dance with her in class.  This time Jane responded differently.  In a wistful way, she said, "You know, sometimes I wish my boobs had eyeballs."

Looking up, I said, "I don't understand."

"Then I could make eye contact with a man every now and then."

Jane's comment took me completely off guard.  Immediately I felt guilty and turned red again.  I wasn't even aware what I had been doing.  However, when I saw her frown, I could see Jane wasn't joking this time.  Nor was she chewing me out.  Rather there was a lonely, sorrowful tone to her voice.  Fearful I had offended her, I decided to address the issue head on. 

"Look, Jane, I'm really sorry.  I apologize for staring at you all the time, but there is something about being a guy that makes me kind of helpless.  Sometimes I find myself looking without even knowing what I am doing.  I really will try to do better."

Jane scrutinized me for a moment, then answered like the old Jane, sassy, defiant, devil may care.

"Oh, Rick, don't be so silly.  Go ahead and look, everyone else does, even the women.  I'm used to it.  I know I'm a freak show.  This goes all the way back to the 8th grade.  Yes, I know I have obscene curves that are hard to ignore, but we aren't in church, are we?  If they bounce, they bounce!  Besides, I appreciate that you are willing to show respect when you slip.  Enjoy the show, I don't mind."

Jane was about to say more, but stopped herself.  Jane had a choice between apologizing for her unusual figure or displaying it with pride.  In my opinion, she made things easier by accepting the attention in a good-natured way.  Still, there had been something in her reply I found unsettling.  It turned out my instincts were correct.  Jane came up to me during the 20-minute Break.

"I was impressed with your candor.  Most men panic when something happens and pretend to ignore it.  I find it refreshing that you were willing to clear the air.  You know, I don't really mind people looking.  I just wish someone would smile at me once in a while instead of my girlfriends." 

Jane emphasized her message by looking down at the dynamic duo.  Apparently my apology had broken the ice.  Now that I realized Jane had a serious side, I was intrigued.  While my students danced and chatted during Break, Jane and I talked at length.  While we spoke, she smiled.  I got the impression what Jane was really saying was that she didn't mind if it was me doing the looking.  In fact, I think she wanted me to look.  That's what worried me.  If anything, she flaunted her voluptuous body when I danced with her.  This situation reminded me of the time several belly dance girls had deliberately tried to draw my attention to their shapely, semi-clad bodies during a show.  Based on that experience, I had learned that if a man shows respect and appreciation, then a woman takes his attention as a compliment.  Apparently, I had passed a test, so Jane issued an open invitation to continue our dialogue. 

At that thought, I gulped.  What is going on here?  I had never heard a woman openly discuss her breast size before, much less someone I barely knew.  And the weirdest thing is how she talked about her breasts as if they were conscious entities.  I almost wondered if Jane talked to them in private or had a pet name for each one.  The more we talked, the more I understood her breasts were both a blessing and a curse.  There were two sides to Jane.  One was Jane look at me.  The other was Jane I am more than my breasts.  I was surprised to discover an active mind behind that magnificent camouflage.  I admired Jane's confident demeanor.  She was very much at ease with the constant attention.  Nothing seemed to faze her.  Watching Jane tease and play with every student in the room, women included, I wished I could be as outgoing as she was.  In this sense, I admired Jane the same way I admired Victoria, another extrovert.  And yet at the same time I found myself intimidated in Jane's presence.  Although we were the same age, 31, Jane seemed much older than me.  Upon analysis, Jane's bold, extroverted personality made me aware I was still pretty shy around strong Alpha women such as her.

As I have made clear throughout my saga, I had wrestled with self-esteem issues my entire life.  You remember the details... only child, broken home, few friends, poor kid among rich kids, blind eye, etc, etc.   Although my elite education was much appreciated, it came at a considerable cost to my confidence around women.  It wasn't easy being ignored by the girls for nine years.  Then came the acne.   That turned out the lights for the remainder of high school.  First I was the poorest, now I was ugliest as well.  The problems I developed in high school left me very insecure around attractive women, especially the kind of woman that every man wanted.  Someone like Jane for example.  I wished I didn't get so rattled around her.  The panic I felt reminded me of that awful phobia I developed following my failures with Vanessa in graduate school.  Fortunately, over the past seven years, my Dancing Project had healed me in many ways.  Overcoming one obstacle after another, I had slowly gained confidence around attractive women for the first time in my life.  However, my insecurity around Jane revealed those old wounds were still there. 

Jane was way too much woman for me.  However, when the woman makes the first move, I tend to get a little braver.  Despite my insecurity, I had a hunch Jane was interested in me.  My first impression had been unfavorable because Jane came across as some sort of floozy.  However, as I got to know Jane during our brief but fascinating moments together, I realized there was an intelligent woman underneath her comic book facade.  That raised a new question.  Having detected the presence of an active mind, I wondered why a woman with such keen intelligence would feel the need to portray herself as a ditzy bimbo.  

Why was Jane such a tease?  She was good-spirited about it, but a tease nonetheless.  She clearly enjoyed the strong effect she had on men.  What I couldn't figure out was how someone as flamboyant as Jane could also be an elementary school teacher.  It was disconcerting to see Jane behave like a hussy and throw her chest around, then imagine her as a mild-mannered, respectable lady teaching little children at school.  Did Jane have a split personality?  Was this hussy side just an act?  That was a good question.  Try as I might, I could not visualize this woman with the hourglass figure and salty mouth teaching little kids their ABCs.  No doubt Jane was an excellent teacher, but my mind could not seem to reconcile the bawdy image I had of her with a prim and proper schoolmarm. 

I was actually tempted to ask if I could observe her Third Grade class just to see Jane in action.  Knowing Jane, she probably would have said okay.  Anything for attention.  The only thing that stopped me from satisfying my curiosity was my opposing need to keep distance between us.  Was I interested in Jane?  Obviously I was.  However, I refused to allow my mind to wander too far.  Since I still felt honor-bound to see Victoria through her post-divorce blues, I wasn't looking for romance.  My life was complicated enough as it was.  That relieved me of any need to act on my ever-increasing interest in Jane.   Jane and every other woman in my life were strictly off limits.  That said, I probably would have exchanged Limbo for Bimbo in a flash except for one thing.

Jane was married. 

MARCH 1981

YES, JANE HAS A HUSBAND

 

Believe it or not, Jane was married.  Not only that, he came to class the first two weeks.  Since Harold stayed quiet and remained in the background, I am not sure anyone knew they were a couple.  The only reason I knew is the class roster listed their last name.  Jane barely paid attention to Harold.  It was almost like they stayed apart deliberately.  I had the distinct impression Harold did not want to be here.  When he did not show up in Week Three, I wondered if he had dropped out.   His absence probably explains why Jane made an attempt to speak to me that night on a personal basis.

There was something odd about Harold I could not put my finger on.  Harold was a tall, handsome, man who carried himself with dignity.  He was very well-dressed and his hair was perfect.   Unlike most men who wore jeans to class, Harold always looked like he had come straight from the office.  He was far and away the best-looking man in the class, but he was also extremely reserved. 

Harold barely interacted with anyone, including his wife.  My hunch was they were having marital problems.  For that reason I wondered if Jane's exhibitionism was her way of making Harold jealous.  When Harold did not show up in the third week, who knows, maybe they had a fight.   Noticing how Jane flirted with every man, she appeared to be shopping around.  Even worse, I had a hunch I had made her short list. 

That thought scared me to death.  Uh oh, here we go again, another test for my willpower.  As if Ammonia was not tough enough, now I had an even more formidable woman to resist.  Unlike Ammonia who was obnoxious, I liked Jane.  She was invariably sweet to me and fun to talk to. 

I knew I was in trouble, but fortunately, Jane continued to wear her wedding ring.  That helped considerably.  The worst mistake of my life had been caused when I responded to the overtures of Victoria, an unhappily married woman.  Was I actually stupid enough to make the same mistake again?  Or had I learned my lesson? 

MARCH 1981

MAE WEST
 

Harold returned for the fourth week and final week of the March dance semester.  As usual, he blended into the background.  After class, the class headed over to the Winchester for Graduation night.  I wondered if Harold would attend along with his wife.  I wasn't sure whether I was happy or sad to see Harold return.  I wondered what Harold thought of his extroverted wife and all the attention she was getting.  Did he know his wife's amazing breasts had attained celebrity status?  I'm sure he did.

Harold and Jane were not hostile to each other, but they were not warm either.  Every guy in the room wanted to dance with Jane, but Harold remained oblivious.  When I told the men to pick a partner, Harold never asked Jane.  Nothing how they kept their distance all night long, something didn't add up.  However, it was none of my business.  I decided I did not want to know why Harold tolerated his wife's strange behavior.  The more I learned about Jane, the more interested I got.  Therefore, the less I knew about her troubled marriage, the better. 

I did, however, get a brief glimpse into Jane's marriage during class in the fourth week.  I made a point of telling everyone to change partners every now and then.  By some sort of unspoken agreement, I would turn to Jane at the same time she turned to me.  Over the past three weeks, whenever we danced together, Jane liked to keep up a running commentary about all sorts of curious things.  One night Jane might say, "Hey, Rick, how's my favorite leading man?"  Ha ha.  Or she might whisper, "I know it's not easy to dance with a woman like me, but the girls wanted me to tell you they enjoy the ride."  Then there was the time Jane cautioned me with, "Be careful not to spin me too fast, the girls are not properly tied down tonight."  

Oh, for goodness sakes, how was I supposed to concentrate after that?  The temptation to liberate the girlfriends was overwhelming, but somehow I behaved myself.  Is this the weirdest story ever?  Guess what, it gets weirder. 

During our fourth night the conversation turned serious during Break Time.  As usual, I put music on for people to practice to.  Harold left the room immediately, perhaps to go to the restroom or maybe just to be alone.  Jane came over and asked me to dance. 

Jane seemed quieter than usual.  She was rather subdued in class.  As we danced, Jane sighed.  "I really enjoy dancing with you, Rick.  Did you know that Mae West once said the best way to hold onto a man forever is to use your arms?  I wonder if she was talking about dancing."

I raised an eyebrow.  "That's an interesting thought.  Are you a Mae West fan?"

"Oh, definitely.  I've seen several of her movies.  I was surprised to discover she wasn't nearly as good looking as I expected.  The way she talked, I expected her to be irresistible.  One day I saw her picture and was shocked.  Average boobs, thick waist, yet men found her incredibly sexy."

"I find her attractive because the things she said were so clever."

"Yes!  You're right!  I could not agree more.  Mae West is my inspiration.  Back when I was an awkward, geeky girl with braces and a weird body, I saw Mae West as the answer to my need to be accepted.  I already had a smart mouth, so now I had to find a way to say smart things.  That's when I read a magazine article that said she spent her free time making up new lines.  So I went to a book store and ordered a book about her.  I rehearsed her lines as a way to deal with my loneliness.  I made up a few lines of my own in the process."

"What's your favorite Mae West quote?"

"I generally avoid temptation unless I can't resist it."

I laughed.  But then I frowned.  I wondered if Jane was sending me a coded message.  I replied, "That sounds like something Mae West would say.  Or did you make it up?"

Jane replied, "That is definitely a Mae West quote.  What about you, Rick.  Do you have a favorite Mae West line?"

"Oh, sure.  'Resisting temptation is a lot easier when you think you'll get another chance later on.'"  Obviously the memory of Ammonia was still on my mind.

Jane giggled.  "You made that up.  I never heard that one before.  Did Mae West really say that?"

"Beats me.  But if she didn't say it, she should have."

Jane laughed.  "Here's another Mae West line... 'Getting married is trading the adoration of many for the sarcasm of one.'"

Whoa.  Where did that come from?  Jane's comment spoke volumes.  And with that, the music ended.  Saved by the bell.  Thank goodness.  Jane's odd remark about marriage had penetrated my defenses.  There was something about the way she said it that felt like she was reaching out to me.  I ached inside thanks to conflicting fear and arousal.  Darn it, what am I going to do about this woman?

Help me, I think I'm falling in love again
When I get that crazy feeling, I know I'm in trouble again
      -- Joni Mitchell

Feeling the heat rise, I was certain my strong urge was not one-sided.  I felt like Jane had just invited me to join her on a path to doom.  And why did I think that?  Because once upon a time, Victoria had acted the same way.  I could feel Jane hunting me the same way Victoria once did.  And, sad to say, due to the Vincent issue, a desire for revenge was lurking in my soul.  I sorely wanted to take Jane up on her invitation and make love feel new again.  Even better, unlike Ammonia and her big mouth, I had a feeling Jane's marital status would ensure her discretion.  Although my conscience was dead set against another affair, my libido refused to behave.  Maybe I could keep this a secret from Victoria like I had with Jennifer last Christmas.  That's when my heart skipped a beat.  Was I really crazy enough to pursue Crazy Jane?  That was a very dangerous thought.  If something went wrong, I could be stuck in Limbo forever.  Or worse.