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massaged down my torso, teasing the edges of the lips between my legs.
    â€œI’m more into the urban fantasy,” I said, trying to think up one quickly since Carter wasn’t prominent in my fantasies. “How about Wall Street? Millions at stake. Power oozing from the beads of sweat on your handsome brow as you pace the office with a headset strapped on.”
    His fingers dipped inside me, and I moaned.
    â€œBoring!” he shouted, nuzzling me with his cock. “Indiana Jones! I am going to throw you down on the jungle floor and ravage you!”
    He thrust into me, and I welcomed him with a surge of moist desire. I could give up the Wall Street scenario for a brief rain forest expedition. As I recalled, Indy did have fabulous credentials and taught at a university. I cast Carter as a young Indy racing through a canyon of towering palms, taking me by the hand, pulling up my skirt.
    He pumped against me, setting up a new rhythm, and I let my elbows fall to the bed as I crouched in the darkness for my swashbuckling archeologist. “Go, Indy!” I whispered as the heat rose between us.
    Afterwards we fell to the bed. Carter groaned and cupped one of my breasts. “You okay, babe?”
    â€œWhy do you ask?”
    â€œYou just seem, I don’t know, a little tense.”
    I sighed. “It’s all this crap at work.” I usually didn’t get really personal with Carter, but since he’d asked . . . “You know my nemesis, Genevieve? Well, she’s stepping all over me, and my boss is letting her get away with it.”
    â€œI hate my boss,” he said.
    â€œWell, I don’t hate mine, but that doesn’t mean he’s always right. There’s an opening coming up—a big one. Restaurant critic. But Marty doesn’t think it’s right for me, and to be honest, that really hurts. He thinks I’m better suited for obits, and yet he’s not satisfied with what I’m writing now. It’s totally fucked up.”
    Silence.
    â€œDo you ever feel that way at work?” I asked him. “Undervalued and overwhelmed?”
    More silence.
    â€œCarter?” In the darkness, I saw his chest rise and fall steadily, his eyes closed.
    Oh, that just did it!
    For once, I opened up to him, and did he listen? He fell asleep!
    As I pulled on my clothes, I wondered if Carter and I had outgrown this relationship. Despite my fantasies, Carter wasn’t joining Mensa anytime soon. He wasn’t one of the geniuses of my fantasies . . . which, in the absence of emotional connection, left us with occasional sex. Jiffy lube, as one of my exes once called it. The ten-minute oil change could be a good thing, but shouldn’t there be some consideration involved? A tiny bit of interest? Enough to keep him awake and listening while I was pouring my heart out?
    Maybe it was time for a new guy. I’d always been so critical of my sister Ricki for hanging onto her schlumpy realtor. I mean, the payoff of that relationship was diminishing for her, yet she clung to him like ivy on a trellis. Was I clinging to Carter, despite diminishing returns?
    â€œTake a look at yourself, girl,” I said, staring into the dark mirror. Too dark to see. As I opened the bedroom door, Red hopped off the living room couch and trotted over to face me in the doorway. I looked back at Carter’s prone figure, then turned to Red.
    â€œI hope you two are very happy together,” I said as I grabbed my coat and headed out of there.

7
    S ix days later, I dug into my plastic vial of antibiotics, gulped the horse pill down with water, then slammed the glass down onto the kitchen counter as if I’d just toasted the Russian fleet with vodka.
    Six days without a drink. I would have to remember that the next time I worried about being recruited by AA. Of course, I still had a few days left on the medication, but since it was Sunday, I figured that a glass of wine with Emma