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Fuuuck…” He couldn’t help but feel a little jolt of excitement whenever a message from her appeared in his inbox. Their communication didn’t necessarily stray into seduction or foreplay on either side, but it did begin to exhibit a kind of warmth, and what seemed to him a genuine pleasure on her part to hear from him. The frequency increased, and subsequently their topics became more immediate, so that both had a sense of one another’s daily life. She knew what days he went to the gym; he knew when she visited the spa, and had her weekly departmental lunch at Gotham. He knew what her children were doing in school. She knew when his children were visiting him. He was trying to conjure a legitimate reason to go to New York for a weekend—apart from wanting an opportunity to see her. Weekends, however, were busy times for her with the children. Finally, one afternoon, she wrote him that she would be back to town, his town, to spend a week visiting her parents and other friends. She was. That doesn’t matter because none of this serious anyhow. The phone rings. After the fifth or sixth ring, you smile ruefully, kiss me, and move to pick it up. It’s a girlfriend and, from the tone of your voice, I know this will not be a short conversation. You sprawl out on the bed, the handset clamped to your ear. I have a vision of you at sixteen, kicking your heels and soaking up the school gossip. Giggling and picking at the candlewick bedspread I pick up my drink again and sip it thoughtfully while I watch. I reach the melting ice cubes at the bottom of the glass and get an idea. I get up and cross towards you. You start a little at the first touch of my ice chilled tongue on your back. Then turn and grin at me mischievously over your shoulder. I smile back. I move my mouth over your shoulder blades, curving and flicking down the mountain range of your spine, rolling the ice cubes with my tongue. You shiver but you continue to chat resolutely. I move lower. I reach the base of.
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