The Lingerie Book at the Shabbos Table

It goes with me wherever I go. It sits on my bookshelf, patiently, waiting to be opened, trying not to grow jealous of the siddur, whose pages smile up at me on a daily basis. What is it? A history of lingerie, by Giles Neret. The title is "100 Desous", because everyone knows French is sexy. So there I am, barefoot, balancing wine and eggplant in the Jerusalem wind that floats through the open window, as we finger the book gently, passing it from palm to palm like a ritual object - this history of the rituals of dressing and undressing. "I don't think men care about underwear, they care about getting it off." "You have to know how to make a woman feel special - it's the key to her heart - and her pants." "When I was shomeret...."

The advice and confessions seep out of us, like wine spilling from a glass, and I wonder if it is the book or the inebriation. Some would say I have defaned the Sabbath, to have chanted the prayers contained in the lace panties that line these pages. But I would argue I have sanctified the day, to make it holy: This pleasure, the twining and untwining of our bodies, your palms on my thighs. "A pleasure He called the shabbat." Let me fill your glass; let us kiss slowly. When I taste the wine on your tongue, I will think of winds blowing on tree-trunks, and call you to the pleasure of my body.

Amen.