about them had been that they were fantasies. They cost her nothing. They did not make her vulnerable, being as easily put away as Rachel’s paper dolls had been, into a box covered with gold foil that had held chocolates. But this fantasy was out of its box.
“When you listed the things you want, you never mentioned love. Most people would. I would. Why not?”
“I suppose because I’m a realist.”
“And you don’t let yourself want what you don’t think you can have?”
“Something like that. Or something I think might harm me.”
“I won’t harm you. Intentionally. We all step on each other’s toes now and then.”
The heat of his hand on her arm made her imagine the heat of his body. He had remarked at lunch that he had a high metabolism and burned up food. His body felt like a little furnace glowing in the chilly air.
She felt giddy. This was all unreal. It was intoxicating and flattering and outside of her real life. He would go back to California and she would go home and it would be sealed into itself, whatever happened, whatever. For some reason, she felt safe now. She relaxed. He put his arm around her as they approached his hotel and she did not draw away. She felt like laughing aloud. Nobody would believe this was Suzanne the Sensible being led along to his hotel room, which was obviously where they were headed. This man had emerged from her computer and he would vanish back into it. Lately she had been having occasional hot flashes and she had missed a couple of periods last year, including one in December. Her gynecologist told her it was the onset of menopause. Change of life. Perhaps one aspect of that change was hallucinating this man whose arm was around her waist, whose hip occasionally bumped hers as they walked, as they crossed Mass. Ave., as they entered the lobby of the Inn.
She felt ridiculously pleased and excited, even aroused as they went up in the elevator and walked along the corridor open on one side to the central atrium, then around a corner to his room. It was neat. He had his laptop set up and several folders on the desk. No clothes lay around, no wet towels.
He put his hands on her hips. “We’ve both been moving toward this for two years. Don’t be coy with me now, Suzanne. Don’t you want to know how we are together? Haven’t you imagined this time and again?”
“Of course,” she said honestly. She did not add that imagining was all she had expected.
He kissed her then, his mouth strange and invasive and exciting. As she kissed him back, as she loosened his shirt even as he undid her blouse, this molten Suzanne was familiar. She felt twenty again, back in late adolescence and early adulthood when sex had been an adventure, when she did not yet fear her own body and the consequences of passion. Here, she thought, there were none. It was all happening in cyberspace. He was a visitor in every sense of the word. A Suzanne she had thought dead, stirred, blossomed, grabbed control. Things moved quickly. She had always liked leisurely lovemaking, but her hunger wanted satisfying now, fast. He was slender but tight, the body of an active man, not buff like a young athlete, for he had a soft belly, but fit, stronger than his size would indicate. Easily he picked her up and spread her on the queen-size bed.
It had been so many years since she had put anything in her mouth besides food and a toothbrush, she was surprised how quickly her old skill at giving head came back to her. She ran her tongue around the head of his prick, then took him in her mouth. She still felt giddy. He was going down on her before she suddenly thought of contraception. She hadn’t been on the pill in over a decade. Lectures she had given her daughters about unprotected sex came back to her with a sudden rush. “Uh…do you have a condom?”
He showed her the packet and she helped him put it on. He hurt her a little, although he entered slowly and she was wet. It was hard to separate the
“When you listed the things you want, you never mentioned love. Most people would. I would. Why not?”
“I suppose because I’m a realist.”
“And you don’t let yourself want what you don’t think you can have?”
“Something like that. Or something I think might harm me.”
“I won’t harm you. Intentionally. We all step on each other’s toes now and then.”
The heat of his hand on her arm made her imagine the heat of his body. He had remarked at lunch that he had a high metabolism and burned up food. His body felt like a little furnace glowing in the chilly air.
She felt giddy. This was all unreal. It was intoxicating and flattering and outside of her real life. He would go back to California and she would go home and it would be sealed into itself, whatever happened, whatever. For some reason, she felt safe now. She relaxed. He put his arm around her as they approached his hotel and she did not draw away. She felt like laughing aloud. Nobody would believe this was Suzanne the Sensible being led along to his hotel room, which was obviously where they were headed. This man had emerged from her computer and he would vanish back into it. Lately she had been having occasional hot flashes and she had missed a couple of periods last year, including one in December. Her gynecologist told her it was the onset of menopause. Change of life. Perhaps one aspect of that change was hallucinating this man whose arm was around her waist, whose hip occasionally bumped hers as they walked, as they crossed Mass. Ave., as they entered the lobby of the Inn.
She felt ridiculously pleased and excited, even aroused as they went up in the elevator and walked along the corridor open on one side to the central atrium, then around a corner to his room. It was neat. He had his laptop set up and several folders on the desk. No clothes lay around, no wet towels.
He put his hands on her hips. “We’ve both been moving toward this for two years. Don’t be coy with me now, Suzanne. Don’t you want to know how we are together? Haven’t you imagined this time and again?”
“Of course,” she said honestly. She did not add that imagining was all she had expected.
He kissed her then, his mouth strange and invasive and exciting. As she kissed him back, as she loosened his shirt even as he undid her blouse, this molten Suzanne was familiar. She felt twenty again, back in late adolescence and early adulthood when sex had been an adventure, when she did not yet fear her own body and the consequences of passion. Here, she thought, there were none. It was all happening in cyberspace. He was a visitor in every sense of the word. A Suzanne she had thought dead, stirred, blossomed, grabbed control. Things moved quickly. She had always liked leisurely lovemaking, but her hunger wanted satisfying now, fast. He was slender but tight, the body of an active man, not buff like a young athlete, for he had a soft belly, but fit, stronger than his size would indicate. Easily he picked her up and spread her on the queen-size bed.
It had been so many years since she had put anything in her mouth besides food and a toothbrush, she was surprised how quickly her old skill at giving head came back to her. She ran her tongue around the head of his prick, then took him in her mouth. She still felt giddy. He was going down on her before she suddenly thought of contraception. She hadn’t been on the pill in over a decade. Lectures she had given her daughters about unprotected sex came back to her with a sudden rush. “Uh…do you have a condom?”
He showed her the packet and she helped him put it on. He hurt her a little, although he entered slowly and she was wet. It was hard to separate the
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