“Are you telling me you’ve slept with every player on the Giants?”
“Just about. I have tickets on the fifty-yard line. After every game, I have sex with two players—one from the defense, and one from the offense.”
“Sort of like the game MVPs?”
“Exactly.”
Myron shrugged. “Beats getting the game ball, I guess.”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “It definitely beats getting a game ball.”
Myron rubbed his eyes.
“It’s not what you think.”
“What’s not what I think?”
“How I got the nickname. Everyone assumes it has something to do with screwing like a rabbit.”
“And it doesn’t?”
“No, it doesn’t.” She looked up in the air. “How do I explain this delicately?”
“You’re worried about delicacy?”
She gave him a mildly disapproving look. “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like some right-wing, narrow-minded, Pat Buchanan–type Neanderthal. I have feelings.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t.”
“No, but you’re acting like it. I don’t hurt anyone. I’m honest. I’m forward. I’m direct. I control what I do and to whom. And I’m happy.”
“Not to mention disease-ridden,” he heard himself say and immediately regretted it. The words had just slipped out; that happened to him sometimes.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”
But he had hit a nerve. “The men I have sex with always wear condoms,” she snapped. “I get tested frequently. I’m clean.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
She didn’t stop. “And I don’t sleep with anyone I think might be infected with something. I’m careful that way.”
Myron bit his lip this time. No point. “My mistake,” he said. “I didn’t mean it; I’m sorry. Please accept my apology.”
Her chest heaved, but she was calm now. “Okay,” she said with an exhale. “Apology accepted.”
Her eyes met his again. They smiled at each other for far too long. Myron felt like a game-show contestant. A thought thankfully interrupted the semitrance. “Did you sleep with Greg Downing?” he asked.
“In 1993,” she said. “He was one of the first Dragons.”
How that must swell his bosom with pride. “You still see him?”
“Sure. We’re good friends. I’m friends with most of the guys afterwards. Not all, but most.”
“Do you two talk a lot?”
“Sometimes.”
“Recently?”
“Not the past month or two.”
“Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”
Thumper gave him a curious look. “Why would you want to know about that?”
Myron shrugged. “Just making conversation.” The Return of Mr. Lame.
“It’s an odd topic,” she said.
“I guess I’ve been thinking about him a lot. All this talk about my being on Greg’s team and our history together. It just got me thinking.”
“It got you thinking about Greg’s love life?” She wasn’t buying it.
Myron sort of shrugged and mumbled something even he didn’t understand. A laugh broke out from the other side of the pool. A group of his new teammates were enjoying a joke. Leon White was one of them. He met Myron’s eye and nodded a hello. Myron nodded back. Myron realized that while no one seemed to be staring at them, all of his teammates had to know why Thumper had approached him. Again he felt like he was back in college, but this time the feeling didn’t bring on the same happy nostalgia.
Thumper was busy studying him again, her eyes narrowed and focused. Myron tried to look neutral, but he felt like a doofus. Being so openly inspected did that to him. He tried to meet her gaze.
Thumper suddenly smiled widely and folded her arms. “I get it now,” she said.
“What?”
“It’s obvious.”
“What’s obvious?”
“You want revenge,” she said.
“Revenge for what?”
The smile grew a bit, then relaxed. “Greg stole Emily from you. Now you want to steal someone back.”
“He didn’t steal her from me,” Myron said quickly. He heard the defensive tone in his voice and didn’t like it. “Emily and I broke up before they started dating.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.” Mr. Snappy Retort.
She let loose a throaty laugh and put a hand on his arm. “Relax, Myron. I’m only teasing you.” She looked at him again. All of this eye contact was beginning to give Myron a headache. He stared at her nose instead. “So are we going to do this?” she asked.
“No,” Myron said.
“If it’s the fear of disease—”
“It’s not. I’m involved with someone.”
“So?”
“So I don’t cheat on her.”
“Who wants you to cheat? I just want to have sex with you.”
“And you think those two things are mutually exclusive?”
“Of course they are,” Thumper said. “Our having sex should have absolutely no effect on your relationship. I don’t want you to stop caring about your girlfriend. I don’t want to be a part of your life. I don’t even want to be intimate.”
“Gee, you make it sound so romantic,” Myron said.
“But that’s just the point. It’s not romantic. It’s just a physical act. Sure, it feels great, but in the end it’s just a physical act. Like shaking hands.”
“Shaking hands,” Myron repeated. “You should write greeting cards.”
“I’m just telling you how it is. Past civilizations—ones far more intellectually advanced than us—understood that pleasure of the flesh was no sin. Associating sex with guilt is a modern, absurd hang-up. This whole concept of tying sex to possession is something we got from uptight Puritans who wanted to maintain control over their major possession: their wife.”
A history scholar, Myron thought. Nice to see.
“Where is it written,” she continued, “that two people can’t reach heights of physical ecstasy without being in love? I mean, think about how ridiculous that is. It’s silly, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Myron said. “But I’ll still pass, thank you.”
She shrugged a suit-yourself. “TC will be very disappointed.”
“He’ll get over it,” he said.
Silence.
“Well,” she said, clasping her hands together, “I think I’ll mingle. It was nice chatting with you, Myron.”
“A true experience,” Myron agreed.
Myron mingled a bit too. He hooked up with Leon for a while. Leon introduced him to his wife, a blond sexpot named Fiona. Very Playmate-like. She had a breathy voice and was one of those women who made even the most
