THE INTERVIEW

"Is what I hear about you true?" The question came poised with a suggestive lilt in the voice, the tip of her tongue nervously exploring suddenly dry lips. Alex knew exactly what she was referring to, but years of paranoia forced him to skirt the issue. Better safe than sorry.

"It depends. What do you hear about me?" The first step in the game was being played, although the woman seated across from him didn't realize it. Getting a woman to admit, out loud, that she might be interested in his services represented a big step. And it was, he admitted, a bit of fun to watch them squirm as they struggled to politely articulate their desires, without seeming too interested.

The woman shifted in her seat, her fingers absently tapping on the sweat-soaked cocktail glass that sat between them. He watched as the beginning of a blush colored the tips of her ears, at the same time shading her delicate neck. It would be fun exploring this one, turning her. He loved all women, of all shapes and sizes. He was proud that he'd never rejected a woman in need based on her looks; everyone deserved a chance to grow. But at the same time, he didn't deny his own desires, the need for a woman who fit certain characteristics, as dictated by his hormones, experience and imagination.

This woman, Melissa, more closely fit his ideal than any woman in a long time, save his wife. Fit and athletic, she measured about four inches shorter than his six feet. Nicely shaped, with smallish breasts, she had the larger butt that small-breasted women always seemed to possess. At least the ones that weren't bulimic or anorexic. Short blond hair nicely framed her classic face; the girl next door in her tomboy days. Her normally self-assured features now displayed embarrassment mixed with arousal. It was a look he knew very well.

"Is it true what Ann told me?" she tried again, hoping to shift the onus of conversation onto him. It was the play of a woman who likes to be in control, he decided. But the topic of conversation had placed her on uneven ground. He could rescue her, of course. Rescue and manipulate her. But he liked these first steps of the game too much. And toying with her now would only help her to appreciate what was to come. No! What might come, he admonished himself. Never assume you know where it's going to lead.

He threw her a little line. "Well, Ann introduced the two of us for a reason. What do you think it is?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, the pink on her ears darkening just a bit. "Well, Ann said you helped her out a while ago. Helped her...grow." He smiled, having anticipated this direction. For some, it was easier to talk of such things in the third person, to explore the subject before allowing it to become more personal. He felt faintly disappointed that they would follow this path, but experience taught him that the more in-control a woman acted, the less likely she could say "I need."

He nodded at her, his smile encouraging, as she continued, "She said that when some people need a little extra in their lives, you can provide it."

It was always tempting to go in for the kill here, to get right to the point. And the urge with this sexy woman manifested more strongly than usual. Instead, he tried a different tack. "It sounds as if you don't approve of Ann's decision."

"No, no, I didn't mean that at all," she exclaimed, her fear of being misunderstood brushing away the embarrassment of the subject. "I can see where some women might need that in their lives. Where some might have had a bad childhood, or whatever, and want more, um, structure. But as long as I've known her, Ann's always had it together. I mean, she and her husband have the perfect marriage."

She left it hanging there as a challenge. She's ready, Alex thought. Let's get her involved. "Let's talk about having the perfect marriage, and being the perfect Mom. Take yourself for example. How long have you been married?"

"About seven years," she replied, her hands back to toying with the glass.

Seven years, five months and fourteen days, Alex pulled from his vast internal file on this woman. "And your husband, he has a full-time career? And you have, what, two children?" She nodded. "And you work full time? Again she nodded. "So let's say, here you are, the modern American woman, you've got a full-time career with all these responsibilities, and you come home and you've got two children and a husband to take care of, and more responsibilities with the house. Are you with me so far? Have I exaggerated anything?"