The Double Cross-up

Gloria and Joe went to Miami Beach for their winter vacation, and they just loved it. They stayed at the Mecca Motel. Gloria wrote all about it to her friend in New York:

Dear Doris,

Well here we are in Miami Beach and is it scrumptious! We're at the Mecca Motel and I think it is stinking the way they call this part of the Beach "Motel Mile" because that makes it sound so cheap and commercial which it really isn't at all. This motel is a darling place, right on the ocean, which you don't need really because they have this huge swimming pool and a simply divine boy to rescue your life. This Mecca Motel is very tastefully put together and not cheap at all -- $26 a day! -- and they keep the Arab idea running through it, like they have all the help dressed up like Arabs in fancy robes and those gizmos on their heads -- flower pots with tassels -- and two minarets out front, all glass, playing Sheik of Araby for you when you drive in. In the front yard they have a caravan of camels and ostriches and I took a simply hilarious picture of Joe sitting on an ostrich -- wait till you see it!!

All I can say is, I'm set for a real high time here at Miami Beach and I intend to have it! The weather is gorgeous -- February and so hot I feel silly wearing my mink overtop of a sun suit. Our room is on the side, too bad because all we can see is the wall of the next motel, but----

In a word, Gloria and Joe were having a great time at Miami Beach, and they liked it not only because it was so refined but also because you meet such wonderful people there. On their very first evening the motel was putting on what it called a "wiener roast and splash party" around the swimming pool. The women were lying in the deck chairs in their mink coats, fanning themselves, and the men were bringing them hot dogs and Martinis.

"Here you are, darling," somebody said to Gloria, handing her a drink; and then, "Oh, excuse it please, from behind you look just like my wife."

Gloria took a swift inventory of this fellow and flashed her best smile at him. "How do I look from the front?" she asked, accidentally letting one bosom pop out from under the coat.

"You look great!" he asserted, beginning to feel the magic of tropical palms and four Martinis.

Just then Joe came up.

"Joe," she said, "this gentleman is trying to ply me with liquor."

"A mistake, I'm sure," the gentleman said. "I took her for my wife."

"So did I," Joe said. "Until death do us part."

Of course, this got a big laugh, during which Gloria yakked herself out of the coat altogether, and introductions were exchanged. The young man was named Charlie. He fetched his wife from a nearby chair: Sheila. It wasn't hard to see what had caused the confusion. The two girls were almost identical: same blonde hair (doctored), same neo-Edwardian hairdo from My Fair Lady, same height, same shape (excellent), same mink coats. For that matter, the men were drawn on the same last too: both dark, both with weensy mustaches, both in their middle twenties.

The women got that cold, deadly look in their eyes as they sized up each other's coats.

"That's an adorable mink you have, Gloria," Sheila said.

"Why, thank you," said Gloria. "And that's a beautiful garment you're wearing -- a semi-let-out azurene, isn't it?"

"Why, yes," Sheila answered, surprised. "How did you know, when yours is a let out homozygous pastel?"

"Say, you sure know your mink," Gloria said.

"I ought to," Sheila answered. "We're in the industry."

"So are we!" Gloria squealed. "Matchless Furs, Twenty-ninth Street, fourth floor."

"Charlie!" Sheila hollered. "Gloria and Joe are Matchless!"

This was the cementing bond: they were all in the fur business. Charlie said, "Matchless? Here, I got a light," and Joe delivered himself of a profound reflection on the size of the world. They sat down, forgot all about their hot dogs, and talked prices, blending, styles, competition and how tough it was to make a living.

At any rate, by the end of this splash party Gloria, Joe, Sheila and Charlie were the very closest of friends. Gloria pushed Charlie into the pool, and Sheila punished her by kissing Joe, and Gloria punished her back by bending way over to help Charlie out of the water. It was a real grown-up, sophisticated party.

The next day they met for lunch, and afterwards they rode out to the Hialeah track in Charlie's rented convertible, adroitly exchanging partners, so that Gloria was holding hands with Charlie in the front seat and Sheila was snuggled up to Joe in the back. They won some, and lost some, and by the end of the afternoon they were only out about $100 apiece. They laughed over this all through dinner in a Chinese restaurant, and talked a lot more about the fur business. Then they went back to the Mecca Motel and took a table in the Hegira Room, which is done up like a huge Arab tent, with potted palms and a bar and a six-piece combo dressed like Arabs but playing rhumbas, tangos, mambos and sambas.

Joe danced with Sheila, and Charlie with Gloria, and after a while they weren't dancing cheek-to-cheek, they were dancing everything-to-everything. It was a couple of hours before the girls excused themselves and withdrew to powder their noses.

They did their business, of course, chattering like magpies, and then sat down at the make-up tables and started on the job of repairing their masks. It was Gloria who introduced the fatal gambit.

"Sheila," she said, while she worked on her nose, "you are just about the luckiest girl alive."

"Who, me?" Sheila said. "How come?"

"Why, that utterly celestial Charlie of yours," Gloria said. "He's the most. Of course, I don't know the half of it, if you get what I mean, but I think he's the excitingest man I've ever met." She put on a smirk that made her start over again on the lipstick. "It's a good thing we're such pals, darling, or I'd really have a yen for your boy."

"Double in spades," Sheila said. "Gloria, you are taking words right out of my mouth. That Joe of yours is so far out of this world he had me dancing on air, about a foot off the floor. What a dreamboat!"

"I guess we're both pretty lucky," Gloria said, putting on an eyebrow. "But you're luckier."

"Are you crazy?" Sheila asked. "You're luckier."

"Of course," Gloria said, very casually, "there would be one sure way of finding out who is really luckier."

"I'm sure I can't imagine what you mean," Sheila said, all innocence.

"Well, I just thought, our rooms are only four doors apart, and it's awfully dark along that side, and a girl with a few drinks under her girdle could get all mixed up and pile into the wrong bed. And if one girl could, so could two."

"But Gloria!" Sheila objected. "That would be highly immoral, and anyway they would find us out. And I know that my Charlie would never consent to sleep with another woman, not even with his best friend's wife."

"How are they going to find us out?" Gloria asked. "We're about the same build and we could pull the sheet way up, so all they can see is the top of our heads. If you have to talk, whisper -- all whispers sound the same. And Joe goes right to sleep afterwards -- how about Charlie?"

"Out like a light," Sheila reported.

"So you see?" Gloria said. "Nothing could go wrong, and later we could tell each other who was luckier."

"It sounds like fun," Sheila admitted, "but I don't see how we could work it."

"Easy," Gloria said. "The boys are getting steamed up and also plastered. All we have to do is to find some excuse to leave the bar a few minutes before they do. But we got to coordinate. Do you sleep raw?"

"Well, no," Sheila said. "That is, not unless----"

"Neither do I," Gloria interrupted. "So that makes it perfect. When they find us au nature, as they say in French, good old nature is bound to take its course."

"I guess so," said Sheila, all excited now. "Then the boys go rockabye and we sneak back to where we belong."

"Exactly!" Gloria exclaimed. "Now let's put on each other's perfume, and while we're doing it, tell me, when you and Charlie -- well, you know are there any little gimmicks -- I mean, so they don't catch on----"

"Well, yes," Sheila said, giggling, as they exchanged bottles, "there's one thing Charlie loves me to do just when----"

But, in deference to the U. S. Post Office, the remainder of this conversation must remain unreported.

Pretty soon the girls returned to the Hegira Room. They danced a few more Moslem mambos; and then, just after the men had ordered a couple of double Cuba Libres, Gloria made with a big yawn and said:

"I don't know about you, Sheila, but I'm for the sack."

"Me too," Sheila said. "I'm bushed."

"Aw, c'mon," Charlie said. "The party's just beginning."

"Just beginning!" Sheila exclaimed. "We been on our feet since 10 A.M. this morning, and now it's midnight."

"But we just got these drinks," Joe objected.

"Don't worry about it," Gloria said. "We can find our way home. You drink your drinks and come along when you're ready. And don't put on the light, in case I'm asleep."

"You neither," Sheila said to Charlie.

So the girls traipsed out, twitching their butts so as to direct the minds of their husbands into the proper channels.

"That's funny," Joe said. "Usually I have to drag her home."

"Same here," Charlie said. He caught a final glimpse of Sheila's oscillating bottom, and a thought occurred to him.

"Joe," he said, "I believe maybe our wives are expecting a little attention tonight, you know what I mean?"

"Uh-oh," said Joe.

"What do you mean, 'uh-oh'?" Charlie asked in amazement. "With that dish of yours?"

"Well, Charlie, if I wasn't half crocked I wouldn't tell you this," Joe said. "But that dish is made up entirely of cold cuts."

"I can't believe it!" Charlie exclaimed, thinking of a few tender incidents at the races.

"It's a fact," Joe declared. "Dead. Unresponsive. No oomph. Gefüllte fish without the horseradish."

"Joe," Charlie said gravely, "in that case you got my sympathy. You are talking to a man who knows all about it."

"What?" Joe cried. "You too? Sheila? But man, that girl's a fireball!" He too was recalling a few inflammatory moments.

"I'm telling, you," Charlie said. "All day, a fireball; in bed, a meatball. You wouldn't believe it."

"No, I wouldn't," Joe said. "But I know one thing. Whatever problem you got, I got it worse."

"On this you could lose money," Charlie said. "Any amount you would like to put up."

"This would be a great bet," Joe said, "if there were any way of proving it one way or the other."

And then Charlie looked at Joe, and Joe looked at Charlie, and each of them knew that the other was thinking just what he was thinking.

"After all, we're both men of the world," Joe ventured.

"No, it wouldn't work," Charlie said.

"Why not?" Joe asked. "The girls are in there waiting -- all we got to do is play it right."

"That's just it," Charlie said. "Sheila would never let some other guy into bed with her. You walk in and she starts screaming."

"Not if she thinks it's you," Joe said, beginning to get worked up over (concluded on page 62)Double Cross-up(continued from page 28) the idea. "Don't you get it? They said not to turn on the light, didn't they? OK, so we don't turn on the light."

"But they'll catch on, Joe," Charlie protested. "You know, little mannerisms, little ways of doing things. Every guy has his own way of going about things, don't you think? For instance, when I"----

But here again we must draw a veil over the conversation of the next few minutes. It was edifying, on a very practical level, and it is a pity to be missing it. We can rejoin Joe and Charlie as they were getting up from the table, somewhat unsteadily, and making their way toward their respective appointments.

"Just remember," Joe was saying, "along with all the other stuff I told you. about, to snuffle in her neck, right under her chin. That's the tipoff."

"And you bite her on the ear," Charlie said. "You know when."

"And we'll meet again here at the bar," Joe said. "In about half an hour?"

"You won't want that long," Charlie said. "Fifteen minutes tops."

And so these two young men took their leave of the Hegira Room. Joe entered Charlie's room and Charlie, four doors away, entered Joe's. The rooms being identical, they had no trouble finding their way about. As they disrobed, their eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and each beheld, in the double bed, the top of a blonde head. Hearts thumping madly with the thrill of the adventure, each slipped into contiguity, and subsequent embraces, with his own wife.

Aside from noting that Sheila was delighted to find a nice little mustache nuzzling and snorting under her chin, and that Gloria was even more entranced to receive a nip on the ear, at just the right time, we must leave unreported the other much more spectacular events of the next--not 15 minutes, not half an hour, but nigh onto an hour and a half.

As it happened, things very nearly went amiss: that is, it was almost discovered who was sleeping with whom. Joe and Gloria, to the accompaniment of several indiscreet female shrieks, concluded their transaction before Charlie and Sheila had exhausted the possibilities inherent in theirs. Gloria, in a veritable transport of well-being, had been led to expect her partner to fall into insensate slumber; she was therefore surprised to observe that he arose, reclothed himself, and departed, whistling softly to himself. After a minute or so she also got up and dressed, intent on getting back to her proper habitat. But on approaching her room, and pressing her ear to the door, she. heard an unmistakable commotion within, which informed her that her entry would be premature. She was understandably perplexed.

"What's he taking so long about?" she asked herself. "After all, that's me he's in there with. Or is it?" The dreadful suspicion dawned in her that her husband had discovered he was partaking of forbidden fruit, and was feasting to his full. For a critical instant she considered bursting in and taxing him with this impropriety. But thinking better of it she withdrew to a dark corner, glowering, and awaited Sheila's exit.

Instead, it was a man who left -- Joe, she assumed. He seemed to be making toward the bar. Not pausing to wonder what that might mean, Gloria strode into her room and found Sheila sitting up in bed, dazed, brushing strands of hair out of her face, altogether breathless.

"OK, I win," Sheila said. "You're luckier. Holy cow!"

"You sure he didn't know I was you, or you were me, or something?" Gloria asked, in the steely voice of the fur buyer.

"No, honestly. It was always 'Oh, Gloria' and 'Ah, Gloria' and 'Where did you learn that, Gloria' -- so it was you, all right, and all I can say is, you're the luckiest girl alive. Oh gracious!"

Mollified by this statement, Gloria was constrained to dispute her title to such pre-eminence.

"Oh no I'm not," she said. "I got a long way to go before I catch up with you. I always thought my Joe was pretty good, but your Charlie makes him look like an elderly clergyman."

"An elderly clergyman?" Sheila cried. "That man who just left here? Holy smoke, Gloria, if you think that was tame you must have made an awful lot of trips to the well!"

The girls continued for some time in this vein, congratulating each other on their own husbands' proficiency, even citing an example now and then to drive their points home. Neither could be persuaded that the man she had entertained was not better than her own husband in every important respect. Meanwhile, these selfsame husbands were seated again at the bar, engaged in much the same conversation.

"What's been keeping you so long?" Joe asked when Charlie came in. "I been sitting here for half an hour."

"Man!" Charlie exclaimed. "That girl isn't good enough for you? I never been so busy in my life!"

"You mean it?" Joe asked. "Must be something wrong. You sure she didn't know who you were?"

"Absolutely," Charlie said. "I gave her that wheeze in the neck, you know, and you'd of thought it had never happened to her before. 'Oh, Joe,' she hollers, and sets off like a wild mare through a prairie fire."

"Same thing happened to me," Joe reported. "And when I chomped her on the ear, like you told me -- man, for a minute there I thought I'd have to leave without the family jewels."

"What?" Charlie asked. "Is this Sheila you're talking about? Impossible! You must of got into the wrong room. Sheila is like a mouse with a hangover."

"Man, how wrong can you be?" Joe asked. "Now if you were talking about Gloria -- yes."

"Man, how wrong can you be?" Charlie rejoined.

The men looked at each other in astonishment.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Joe stated.

"Well, I'll be damned too!" Charlie declared.

But as they made their way back to their rooms they got to thinking. Their thoughts were absolutely identical, the ruminations of a quadruped named Joecharlie:

My wife just isn't that good. The whole thing is totally and completely impossible.

I got it! This guy just hasn't been around much, that's all

But hell, he was in there for more than an hour! My wife must have been coming up with something.

(Here a pause, while a new idea was born. Then:)

So maybe I'm missing the boat right in my own creek?

This I got to know. Tonight.

"Night, Charlie," Joe whispered at his door. "Hope I got the strength to make the bed. I'm not long for this world."

"So long, Joe," Charlie answered. "I only hope Sheila's asleep. I'm dead."

Once inside their doors, however, Joe and Charlie manifested the liveliest activity. Once again, and all unknowing that it was once again, they tasted, to the surprise and delight of their wives, the blessings of connubial union. Each discovered that he had indeed been missing something -- had been missing, in fact, a great deal. Life, though it promised to be a good deal more strenuous, appeared much rosier. And the girls, each alerted to her good fortune by the other, found that their high esteem of their husbands should have been, if anything, even higher.

The moral of this tale is plain: you certainly do meet wonderful people at the Mecca Motel, and it's worth every penny of $26 a day.