hit on you,” I said.

“Bingo,” she said.

I was quiet.

She looked up at me and said, “You’re a very nice man, Jeremy. I’m going to tell you, anyway, even though you didn’t ask. Cameron got as far as Terry did.”

“Cameron married, too?”

“Engaged. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the same thing. Anyway, if anyone at the firm can give you any more information about Terry, at least in that area, it’d be Cameron.”

“Thanks for your help, Sandra. As you said, all of this probably has nothing to do with Terry’s death, but it’s still stuff that I have to rule out.”

“Are we finished with business?” she asked.

“We certainly are,” I said.

“Good.” She stood up and walked a few feet towards the hallway that led to her bedroom. Then she turned back to me in the soft light and took off her suit jacket, dropping it on the floor beside her. Next came the yellow silk blouse. Now I could see that she was wearing a yellow bra made of some sort of semi-transparent material. She stood there in her short skirt and high heels and bra for a minute, then said, “Now, about that tight-ass thing.” She reached behind her and unzipped her skirt and let it slide down her legs. Stepping out of it, she said, “I believe I’d like another opinion.” She turned and began walking slowly down the hallway, her hips swaying as though keeping time to some unheard melody. I followed her to her bedroom, managing to discard my sports coat along the way. Once we were inside the room, she unbuttoned my shirt and helped me off with it.

“Oh, my,” she said, stepping back for a minute. “You spend a lot of time in the weight room, don’t you?”

“Ah, shucks,” I said.

Then we practiced safe, and extremely satisfactory, sex.

Several times.

Chapter 18

At a little after four the next morning, I awoke next to Sandra in her king-sized bed. She was sleeping, with the sheet pulled up to cover most of her body, although one breast was exposed. I glanced at it for a moment but then looked away as I gently pulled the sheet up to her neck. I have nothing against looking at breasts, especially those as beautiful as Sandra’s, but only in the right context. Staring at a woman’s boobs as she sleeps next to me has never seemed to fall into that category.

I got up as quietly as I could and padded into the bathroom, where I took just a few minutes to wash myself and throw on my clothes, which I’d picked up on the trip from the bed. Sometimes I’m not sure if a woman wants me to spend the night after lovemaking, and, to be honest, I usually don’t really want to, anyway. I prefer to wake up in my own bed, albeit alone. In Sandra’s case, I was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind my leaving. The sex had been great, but I hadn’t felt any cosmic connection between us, nor had I expected to. Mostly, what we’d had was what a friend of mine calls recreational sex, two people looking for a good time with each other without any attachments. That’s not to say that I didn’t hope to someday find someone to whom I could feel attached, as it were, just that it hadn’t happened yet, at least not tonight. As I said, I’d enjoyed the sex, but Sandra was, how should I put this, a little too intense for me. I have no problem with a woman taking the lead, sexually; in fact, my experience has been that it is often quite pleasurable when your partner lets you know exactly what she likes and what she expects of you. In Sandra’s case, at times I had the feeling that we were involved in some sort of contest, one that she was determined to win. I don’t look at sex as competition. For me, it’s more a matter of cooperation, saying let’s see how good we can make each other feel.

At any rate, I tiptoed over to the edge of the bed, intending to give Sandra a light kiss and say goodnight. As I approached, however, I saw that her eyes were open.

She smiled up at me and said, “That was fun.”

“It certainly was,” I agreed.

She reached up with both arms, causing the sheet to slide down and expose her breasts. I took a deep breath.

“How about a hug and a kiss before you go, cowboy?”

“An offer I can’t refuse,” I told her, as I leaned down to hold her and give her a kiss.

Just for a minute, I had the idea that she was going to try to pull me back into bed with her, but then she released her hold on me, leaned back, and smiled.

“I mean it, Jeremy. That was more fun than I’ve had in quite a while. Anytime you want to go for a rerun, just give me a call, hear?”

“I hear you,” I said. “Maybe next time we can begin with dinner or a movie.”

“That’d be nice,” she said, with a yawn, “as long as we end up back here. You gonna find your way out okay?”

“Sure,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”

I picked up my sports coat from the floor as I walked down the hallway from her bedroom, made sure the latch on her door was set to lock, then let myself out. It was entirely possible that I’d be seeing Sandra again, but I doubted if we’d be sitting in rockers on our front porch forty or fifty years from now, playing with our grandchildren. No problem there. At the moment, she was beautiful and available and completely okay with the two of us seeing each other on an occasional basis. So was I. Available and okay with the occasional thing, I mean.

Oh, all right. Beautiful, too.

*      *      *

When I got home, I crawled into my bed and slept until nine that morning, when I got up

Вы читаете Small Bytes
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату