Page 105 of Frankly, My Dear

She shot him a look of disgust.

“Play the piano?” Ellen asked.

Once again, Selene shook her head.

“Dance?”

“Not much.”

“Only the boogie,” James offered, studying his fingernails innocently.

The jerk! He must have heard of her latest exercise class.

“Sing?”

Selene almost gurgled with dismay. “No.”

“Well, now, Selene, that’s not quite true,” James said, eying her over his raised goblet, which was already half empty. “Remember that achy breaky heart song.”

“Achy breaky…?” Ellen choked out almost as if they were vulgar lyrics.

“Of course, I have a decided preference for ‘Who Put the Bop in the Bop She Bop,’” James noted.

Selene snarled.

“Now, now, my dear,” Mrs. Baptiste cautioned, no doubt noticing her clawed hands.

At first Ellen looked upset, probably questioning just what kind of governess she was getting for her young daughters. But then she beamed with the graciousness of a pure Southern belle. “Never fear, my dear, I’m sure we’ll find some hidden talent of yours.” She stretched out her hand and patted Selene’s arm patronizingly, and in the process dropped her fan.

All three men jumped up to recover it.

Gawd! Maybe there was something to the simpering, helpless, batting-the-eyelashes style of coquettishness practiced by these antebellum women. She took a swig of her syllabub and decided to experiment, fluttering her false eyelashes at Pierce. She knew better than to try such obvious tactics on James.

Pierce’s eyes widened, registering her flirtation. Then he winked.

She heard James mutter something about cutting off more body parts.

“What are arrow-backs?” Pierce asked.

“And group therapy?” Andrew added.

Mrs. Baptiste sipped daintily at her mint julep, her blue eyes dancing with delight at the unusual turn the conversation was taking.

Before Selene could respond, James launched with relish into a full-blown explanation of her exercise classes.

“What’s a tush?” Ellen asked in a squeaky voice, already having expressed her concern over the inappropriateness of Selene’s engaging the slaves in her aerobics. Wait till she finds out about my integrated classroom.

Selene rolled her eyes and chugged down the rest of her glass of syllabub, then reached for another on the tray.

James’s knowing eyes followed her actions, and he smiled approvingly. “How shall I say this, Ellen, without offending your sensibilities? A tush is a…derriere.”

“Oh…oh…oh,” Ellen gasped out, waving her fan furiously in front of her flushed face.

James addressed Andrew and Pierce then, explaining, with fake consideration. “Actually, tush crunches are pelvic thrusts.” He turned to Selene. “Perhaps it would be better if you demonstrated for everyone, Selene. I could do the counting for you. ‘Thrust, up, hold, release…thrust, up, hold, release.’”

Mrs. Baptiste giggled behind her fingertips, and Ellen looked as if she were about to have a seizure.

“Oh, that’s right, Selene,” James continued, hitting the side of his head as if he’d just thought of something, “you have to be wearing trousers.”