mean, I’m not that much older than you, Myron.
“Good point. Quote withdrawn.”
“So,” she said. “I’ll ask again. Would you like to come inside?”
Myron said, “Sure.” Bowling her over with quick wit. What chance did she have against such sparkling repartee?
She disappeared back into the house, creating an air vacuum that sucked Myron-against his will, of course-in after her. The inside was nice, the kind of house that obviously saw plenty of company. Big open room on the left Tiffany lamps. Persian rugs. Busts of French guys with long, curly hair. Grandfather clock. Painted portraits of stern- faced men.
“Care to sit down?” she said.
“Thank you.”
“How about a drink?” she asked.
He noticed she already had one made for herself. “Sure, whatever you’re having.”
“A vodka tonic.”
“Sounds good.” Myron hated vodka.
She mixed the drink. He sipped it, trying not to make a face. He wasn’t sure if he was successful. She sat down next to him. “I’ve never been this forward before,” she said.
“That a fact?”
“But I’m very attracted to you. It’s one of the reasons I loved watching you play. You’re really very handsome. I’m sure you’re sick of hearing that.”
“Well, I don’t know if
Madelaine crossed her legs. It wasn’t Jessica’s leg cross, but it was still worth watching. “When you came to the door yesterday, I didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity. I decided to throw caution to the wind and just go for it.”
Myron could not stop grinning. “I see.”
She stood and reached out her hand to him. “Now how about that shower?”
“Uh, can we talk first?”
Puzzlement shadowed her face. “Is there something wrong?”
Myron feigned embarrassment. “Aren’t you married?”
“And that bothers you?”
Not really. “Yes. I guess it does.”
“Admirable,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“Stupid too.”
“Thank you.”
She laughed. “Actually, it’s sweet. But Dean Gordon and I have what we call a semi-open marriage.”
Hmm. “Could you elaborate a little?”
“Elaborate?”
“Just to make me feel more comfortable about all this.”
She sat back down. The white skirt might as well not have been there. Her legs could best be described as scrumptious. “I’ve never had to elaborate before,” she said.
“I realize that. But I’m interested.”
Arched eyebrow. “In?”
“Can we start with your definition of
She sighed. “My husband and I have been close friends since childhood. Our parents summered together in Hyannis Port. We were both from the ‘right families.’” She made little quote marks in the air when she said “right families.” “We thought that would be enough. But it wasn’t.”
“So why not divorce?”
She looked a question “Why am I telling you this?”
“My honest blue eyes,” he said. “They’re hypnotic.”
“Maybe they are.”
Now Myron gave her aw-shucks modesty. Mr. Adaptable Face.
“My husband is politically connected. He was an ambassador. He’s next in line to be university president. If we get divorced-”
“That ends,” Myron finished.
“Yes Even these days, the hint of scandal can destroy a career and a lifestyle. But more than that, Harrison and I are still dear friends. Best friends, really. It’s just that we need limited outside stimulation.”
“Limited?”
“Once every two months,” she said.
Yikes. “How did you come up with that number?” he asked. “Some kind of new algorithm, perhaps?”
She smiled. “Lots of discussions Negotiations, really. Once a month seemed like too much. Once a semester too little.”
Myron nodded at her.
“And we always use a condom,” she added. “That’s part of the arrangement.”
“I see.”
“Do you have one?” she asked. “A condom.”
“On?”
She smiled “I have some upstairs.”
“Can I ask one more thing?”
“If you must.”
“How do you and your husband know that the other has kept to their, er, limit?”
“Easy,” she said. “We tell each other. Everything. Helps spice things up a little.”
Madelaine was seriously strange, which only made her more attractive to Myron.
“Your husband. Does he ever fool around with co-eds?”
She leaned forward and put her hand on his thigh. Upper thigh. Upper, upper thigh. “That kind of thing turn you on?”
“Yeah.” He tried a rakish smile. But rakish was not him. He could see in her eyes that she wasn’t buying it.
Madelaine took back her hand. “What are you up to, Myron?” she asked.
“Up to?”
“I feel like I’m being used,” she said. “But not the way I had in mind.”
Man. “Just getting in the mood.”
“I don’t think so, Myron.” She studied him for moment. “Be honest for a second. Are we going to go to bed?”
“No,” he said “We’re not.”
“I’ve never been turned down before.”
“And I’ve never turned down a proposition like this before,” Myron said. “Come to think of it, I’ve never had a proposition like this before.”
“Is it because I’m married?”
“No.”
“Are you involved with someone else?” she asked.
“Worse. I’m on the cusp of something that means a great deal to me. I don’t know which way I’m going to fall. I’m confused.”
“That’s sweet.”
Again he gave her aw-shucks.
“If it doesn’t work out…?” she said.
“I’ll be back.”
