Malone. Leering at me he said, “Your husband told us you would entertain us today. We see he kept his word." Since I was already horny, my nipples popped to attention. “Umm, yes... um. He just told me. Please come in. Can I get you something to drink?” I was feeling their eyes all over me as I led them to the pool. I handed them each a beer.“Excuse me while I go change.”Without missing a beat one said, “What are you, a racist?”I blinked, stunned. Gina had warned me not to do anything that would give that impression in today's social atmosphere. I stammered out a no.“So why then are you changing? You wear different clothes for blacks?”Once again I stammered a no. They just stared at me. Not wanting to add to my error, I let the wrap fall and their stares turned to grins. They led me to the table by the pool bar and we all sat down and got to drinking.I learned a bit about each. They all said they were married with kids, etcetera. However, they kept saying that Mr. P (my husband) had. Neither of those was a fantasy of hers. Doesn’t anyone write about romance anymore, she wondered. But she had re-read the stories that day at work and now was rewinding them in her mind. She made believe the man by the side of the road with the disabled car was him. He had called her when his car had been disabled nearby. They were finally going to meet. She reached her hand under her nightgown and closed her eyes … They were seated on the couch, a tray of tea and cookies on the table in front of them. She had made them as a joke because, once, to show her old-fashioned values, she had told him in an e-mail that one of her fantasies involved having tea and cookies with a man, a suitor, in a ritual from decades, maybe centuries, ago. ‘Very funny,’ he said when he saw the refreshments. ‘Very funny.’ She just smiled. She picked him up after the tow truck left, and brought him home. They talked for what seemed like hours — about her job, his job, what was going on in the world, their.
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