Knut Gustafson figured that he was entitled to a couple of years of peace before Rebecca became a teenager. Why did she keep acting like one now? "It's so boring," she said.

"It's the costume that you chose yourself," Knut reminded her.

"Tammy's mother sewed her a lovely Princess costume, much better than this one."

"So why," a voice inside Knut's head ran, "didn't you ask your mother to sew you one?" But he couldn't ask that. Besides, he doubted that Candice could sew any better than he could. Maybe a little; she had taken home ec. Still he didn't think that Rebecca would enjoy a costume that Candice could sew. "Well," he said aloud, "if you wanted a princess costume, there were plenty in the store. You asked for a Batman outfit."

That wasn't the point, and he knew that very well; but she stopped arguing. He put on a white plastic rain cloak for its reflectivity. They went downstairs, crossed the porch, and knocked on their landlords' door.

The Sandovals exclaimed over how good she looked. They were still talking when the doorbell rang. The pirate who entered was dressed in a home-made costume, and an imaginative one at that.

The woman with him looked good, too. Both kids turned right when they left the Sandovals' place. "I'm Sarah Jenkins," the woman said. "That's Billy."

"Knut Gustafson," he answered, "and this is Rebecca. Rebecca, say hello to Mrs. Jenkins."

"Hello Mrs. Jenkins."

"Hello Rebecca. Nice to meet you. Like Newt Gingrich?" Everybody asked that these days.

"Like King Canute who couldn't command the tides. Kay Enn Yew Tea. The K was once pronounced. I've no idea if the Svensk still do, but it's silent in English."

The kids got a little ahead of them and the boy looked like he was going to dart across. "Hold it!" Knut said. "Okay guys, this is the drill. We are going to wait until this car goes, and then we are going to all cross together. Stay with the adults and watch for cars." Then he realized what that must sound like to Mrs. Jenkins. "Sorry."

"Be my guest."

Mrs. Jenkins's voice was decisive, even though they kept their voices low in the darkness. Her silences were comfortable, too. Innocently, he took both kids upstairs in the first 6-flat while she stayed below. When she took the next building, however, he couldn't tear his eyes from her butt as she climbed the stairs.

The steps tightened the skirt, and he could see where her hips flexed under the cloth. She swayed a little as her weight went from one leg to another. The most attractive sight was the little corner her bones turned after they left her pelvis, the greater trochanter -- he'd looked it up. The wide spread said "woman" to him.

Of course, she was another man's woman, married with a child.

So he walked an inch further from her as they traveled the dozen yards to the next entrance. Still he watched her climb in the building after that, wished the flexion was for him, knew it never would be.

There was only one more 6-flat after that one, his turn -- unfortunately. Soon after that she said: "That's our place across the street. I think we'll cross here."

"Good idea," he responded. "Okay, let's all stay together and look both ways." They crossed the street together; Rebecca was good about that. When Billy and his mother started into a courtyard, however, she darted down the walk towards the Walters' house. The courtyard was well-lighted and empty. He had no excuse to watch them home. "Sorry," he said as he followed 'Becca.

"Good night," Mrs. Jenkins called after them.

He and 'Becca stopped at three more houses, in one of which the family wasn't home.

When they climbed the stairs to their apartment, he still had a memory of hips tightening under a tightened skirt. He wished that he could have seen which entrance she had headed towards.

After 'Becca was in night clothes and had her "two pieces of candy, and that's all tonight" (one of the Reese packages being, predictably enough, her second "piece"), she brushed her teeth and climbed into bed.

"Did you know Billy at all before tonight?" he asked her.

"Daddy! He has to be in second grade, maybe first." Thus, obviously unworthy of the attention of a sixth grader. He considered comparing that to the attention (and candy) that adults on the block had showered on the two of them that night. Then he gave it up.

On his way home from work the next day, he happened to notice the poll sheet prominently displayed -- as the law required -- on the front of their precinct's polling place. Sarah Jenkins was listed at 1243. No other Jenkins was.

Now, her husband might not be interested in voting; he might have missed the registration deadline, Sarah being listed as a new registrant since the primaries; she might be using her own last name, half the young women today seemed to. On the other hand, she might be a single mother or a divorcee. She might even be a widow.

He had to force himself to turn in at his own door. He was not going down to 1243 to see whether there was another name on the mailbox with Jenkins. Still, as he climbed the familiar stairs to his apartment, his mind couldn't resist the memory of those hips tightening, relaxing and swaying up those other stairways.

This was Rebecca's weekend with her mother. She was bathed, dressed in clean clothes, and packed by the time Candice got there. The discussion was brief, but civil.

After his dinner, he stripped her bed and consolidated her dirty clothes with his. Then he undressed and turned out all the lights except the lamp by his bedside.

He had too active a libido, and too inactive a social life, to restrain himself all the time that his daughter was home. Still, he always felt restricted by her presence in the next room, or even outside playing.

He took a tape and a stack of magazines from the locked cabinet into bed with him. As his excitement rose, he stroked himself everywhere but his genitals. Staring at the frontal shot of a dark beauty, he pretended that it was her fingers teasing the insides of his thighs. Turning to the picture of a platinum blonde, he would imagine her lips and teeth -- rather than his own fingers -- on his nipples.

He avoided his cock until the distension there pained him. Abruptly, he rolled backward and stretched to the play button on his tape recorder. He scratched and stroked the sack of his balls while the female voice established the minimal and silly plot. As soon as she began describing intercourse, however, he stared at a picture of a kneeling woman spreading her labia between her globular hips.

He stroked himself, slowly at first. His speed increased as the tape played the sounds of a simulated orgasm. As that woman moaned her last, he started throbbing through his wrapped fingers.

When he'd caught his breath, he wiped his hand on the sheet. He rolled over, shut off the tape recorder, and switched off the light. He felt slightly guilty, but not enough to keep him awake.

The next morning he sprayed Spray-N-Wash on the places where he had spurted on his sheets, added those sheets to the wash, and took it to the laundromat. The video place was only a few doors away. He took his time selecting two films from the XXX shelves while the washers ran. He often wondered what the salespeople thought of his selection of two pieces of porn one week and one piece of Disney fluff the next. Probably nothing; "You would worry less about what people think of you if you knew how seldom they do."

He and 'Becca stopped at the grocery after church a few weeks later. They always did on her weekends with him. A woman was bent slightly over checking a price on the machine provided for that purpose. The sight delightfully reminded him of the woman climbing the stairs in front of him on Halloween. As he went past, the resemblance continued. "Aren't you Sarah Jenkins?" he asked.

"I'm Knut Gustafson," he continued. Yes, this was Sarah. "Rebecca, greet Mrs. Jenkins. She went trick-or-treating with us." Which told Sarah who he was, too.

"Hello Mrs. Jenkins," 'Becca said.

"How do you do, Rebecca? I wouldn't have recognized you not dressed as Batgirl." Rebecca had been batman, and her face said that she resented the mistake. But she thought better of saying so and moved on to the next aisle. "Stocking up for the holiday?" Sarah asked.

"No. Rebecca is spending Thanksgiving with her mother. This is two week's worth. She doesn't trust me to keep her favorite foods in stock without supervision."

"Well, that's a shame; but that gives you Christmas day this year. Or, at least, that's how it works for me."

"Uh-huh," he said. Hey, she wasn't taken, after all! "You know the drill. Is Billy with you this Thanksgiving?"

"No, but I'll have him a long time at Christmas. We'll go visit his grandparents."

Well, that was an opportunity which might never come again. "Y'know, Thanksgiving is no holiday to spend alone. There's a local restaurant that serves a traditional Thanksgiving feast, turkey and everything. Would you be willing to be my guest there?"

"Why, thank you." Their conversation continued. 'Becca, choosing between her pout and supervising his shopping, returned. When they got to the checkout line, he went first. Sarah didn't have much, and she might leave while he was going through.

"Do you have wheels?" he asked when Sarah had paid. She pointed at a 'shopping cart' of the two-wheeled, personally- owned, sort. "That's ridiculous. Wait with 'Becca while I get the car, and we'll give you a ride home."

In the car, he got her phone number. He parked close to her back stairs and carried one bag upstairs. "See you Thursday," he said, unable to think of any more reasons to prolong this visit.

He got the stuff upstairs and into his freezer before they drove over to the movie-rental place. He checked 'Becca's seat belt from the front seat, before taking out his notebook. "That's one point for Gryfindor here, and one point for fastening it at the grocery store. And a couple of points for swallowing your anger about being called 'Batgirl.'"

"I was Batman."

"And so you were, and so you may tell me. But not telling Mrs. Jenkins was a good choice. That's four points total." And, if she hadn't gone off in a sulk it would have been five.

Thanksgiving, he was antsy. He resisted calling until one. "This is Knut Gustafson. Are we still on for two?"

"Yes."

"I was going to offer you the option of walking; it isn't far. But I don't trust the weather. I'll be parked in front of your building at two."

When his watch showed the hour, he rang her apartment bell. "I have a confession to make," he said after he had started driving. He preferred the smorgasbord, and she might like it better, too. "This place serves a turkey dinner on Thanksgiving, but I'm going for the smorgasbord. So you'll have to choose whether to be seasonal on your own."

They had to wait, even though he had made a reservation. Her child would be a safe topic. "Is Billy a fussy eater?"

"He's not bad. He could live on hamburgers, but he enjoys other foods as well."

"You ever visit the Vietnamese restaurants in the neighborhood?" he asked. "What does he think of those?"

"Loves Chinese, especially sweet-and-sour," she answered. "I haven't started him on the Vietnamese places yet. He'll even eat vegetables in those dishes which he won't eat for me."

"Offer a prayer of thanks. I keep dreading that Rebecca will get into the 'Mickey D's or nothing' phase. Look; she has a table for us."

The waitress asked about drinks. "I'm driving," he said, "you?"

"Coffee." She was an entertaining conversationalist. And she listened to his comments, too.

He brought up Billy, again, but she must have thought that he was trying too hard.

When they were winding down the meal, the rain was incredibly heavy. As nobody was coming in, the waitress wasn't anxious for them to leave. He was willing to talk with this woman until supper time -- until breakfast time, if it weren't for 'Becca's coming home. Her life was fascinating. His only experience with substitute teachers was from his own days in high school, and he wasn't anxious to tell her about that. When a pause in the rain seemed imminent, he asked, "Do you want any more?"

The rain was a mere drizzle when they left. He drove her home and walked her to the door of her apartment building, which was only gentlemanly. He followed her inside and up the stairs, which was not. When she reached the top landing, he was two steps behind her. His face was even with hers, if she wanted to kiss him. But, if he kissed this woman, he might never stop. He kissed her hand as a compromise. He kissed it too thoroughly to be a real compromise.

"I really enjoyed this," he said.

"So did I."

They stood there until a nearby stroke of lightning made them both jump. "That's my cue," he said. "Good-bye." And he left while he still could.

Knut regretted leaving Sarah, though he knew he'd way overstayed his welcome. He had other reasons for coming home, however. He didn't have a video tonight. Hell, he didn't need a video tonight; he was nearly coming in his pants. He could make do with one magazine. With Rebecca gone, though, there was no reason to keep them in the locked cabinet. He spread out a dozen magazines on one side of his bed before heading to take his shower.

The taboos ingrained by living with a daughter held, though. He carried pajamas and robe into the bathroom and latched the door before stripping. His erection preceded him into the shower and was undimmed by the rush of water. He might as well be an adolescent again. That Sarah woman was hot. He idly stroked his erection while he thought of holding her breasts. One word from her, and he would have carried her into her bedroom. That would have been much more satisfactory than this. And, picturing her in bed, picturing himself in her, he stroked himself into completion.

It was all he could do to keep from collapsing. And, once his erection had subsided, he needed to use the toilet. When he finally got to his room, wearing pajamas and robe, he put all the magazines back and locked the cabinet before returning to the living room. He thought of Sarah until Candice brought 'Becca back.

He knew Sarah's number, but also knew that he didn't want her thinking of him as a phone stalker. He restrained himself until Saturday to thank her for the date. He chickened out before he could ask her out again. Late on the 13th, he called. "This is Knut Gustafson. Is this too late to call?"

"It's fine."

"When we were talking about Billy's toleration for Oriental food, I neglected to ask about yours," he said. "Do you like Chinese cooking?"

"I love it."

"How would you and Billy enjoy a meal with me at my favorite Chinese restaurant next weekend?"

"Very much."

"Saturday suppertime? And when would that be? Rebecca will be with her mother then, so I'm flexible."

"Well, we usually eat at six."

"Five-forty-five, then, at your doorway? It won't be much after six when we eat. Would that be convenient?"

"Thank you very much."

"Thank you," he finished.

'Becca was in her room. He couldn't use the tape, much less the VCR. The magazines from the locked cabinet were enough, though. His images of Sarah would probably have been enough.

Saturday, Billy came down the stairs with Sarah. Knut's interest was in the woman, but he knew that much of her interest was in his relationship with the boy. He opened the back door of the car first. "Billy, this seat belt is sometimes a problem. Tell me whether you can fasten it." He watched carefully. It wouldn't do to embarrass Billy for trying to put two parts together which wouldn't go. "You might have the wrong short end. Try the other." Billy did, and succeeded. He tested it to make sure. "Good man," he said. When Sarah was seated beside him and they were on their way he asked, "Is it okay to order as a group, and share from the serving plates?" For all her comments about being fond of Oriental restaurants, he wasn't sure she was a regular.

"That's fine."

"Any allergies I should know about, or strong aversions?"

"No," she said.

Again, he gave the (maybe) picky eater first choice in the restaurant. He served him a half bowl of soup first, and he liked it. Billy didn't know chopsticks, though. He started him on them. This trip was going to be fun for Billy. "You can eat with a fork," he told him, "but half the fun is trying the chopsticks." And having held Billy's hand to shape it around the chopsticks, he held Sarah's to do the same. Which made the trip fun for Knut.

When he told Billy to try at least some of each dish, though, Sarah's face showed that he'd gone too far. "Too parental?"

She paused, apparently looking for a polite way to say it, then said, "Not really."

Billy asked why he was laughing.

"Well, Billy," he said, "you know that you should always be polite." Billy nodded. "And you know that you should always be honest." Billy nodded again. "Sometimes it is hard to be both, isn't it?"

"Yes," He had a young kid's habit of answering rhetorical questions.

"Well, your mother used just the words to be polite... with just the timing to be honest."

Billy looked satisfied. Sarah looked satisfied, too, but Knut concentrated on being her host. Let her control Billy.

When Billy had taken the last of the sweet and sour shrimp, though, Knut asked him, "Getting full?" Billy nodded. "Your mom and I will be a little longer. Why don't you go back to the chop sticks? It isn't as fast, but you aren't after being fast right now." After helping Billy with the chopsticks again, he asked the woman on the cash register to add a container of sweet and sour shrimp to their leftovers and their bill.

When he got back to the table, Billy was using his fork to chase down the remains of the shrimp. "Anybody have room left for fortune cookies?" he asked.

"I have room for ice cream," answered Billy.

"You'd rather have ice cream than fortune cookies?" 'Becca had her faults, but not that one.

"Yes!"

"Say 'yes, please.'"

"Yes, please," said Billy. And his mother, who clearly thought Knut was being too parental again, said nothing. Damn it! It was ingrained.

"Sorry," he said, "and what is your wish?"

"I'll have a fortune cookie, please."

Well, he thought as they left the restaurant, if he couldn't hold Sarah directly in public, he could indirectly. He took Billy's left hand; Sarah took Billy's right hand; and Billy -- with a lot of assistance -- jumped over the puddles on the way to the car. "Why do I have to sit in the back seat?" Billy asked his mother when they got there.

"That's a fair question," Knut told him, "but you have to ask me. You know that there are things you may do at home that you can't do at some of your friends' houses? And there are things some of your friends do at home that your mother won't let them do at your house.

"Well, those are house rules. The people who rent the house make certain rules. There are certain rules for my car. When there are adults present, no kid rides in the front seat. Ask your mother; Rebecca rode in the back seat when we went shopping together."

"That's right," Sarah said. "And it's her family's car."

Billy took a long time getting in. "Buckled up?" Knut asked from the driver's seat.

"You don't ask mommy."

"No, I don't. But I look over to check. I don't start the car until everybody is buckled up."

When they got to the alley behind the Jenkins's place, Billy struggled with the seat belt. In the first place, he wanted Billy familiar with the car. In the second, if Sarah thought he had been too parental, he wasn't going to risk Billy's finding his help demeaning. "I'll help if you ask," he told Billy, "but I think you can get it." Billy could.

Removing the broccoli beef -- it had been especially marked -- he handed the leftovers to Billy. "Put that in your refrigerator, would you please," he said. They all climbed the stairs. While Billy was dealing with the leftovers, Knut kissed Sarah. When the refrigerator door slammed, he let go.

Then something else slammed. "Bathroom," said Sarah. When he'd unbuttoned her coat and unzipped his, she came into his arms for a nice cuddle. They moved apart when they heard Billy coming towards them, though.

"Thank God for small bladders," he said. She laughed. It was such a sexy laugh. And, too, now they were conspirators hiding their relationship from Billy's innocence. Which meant that she thought there was something to hide. Might as well quit winners. "I enjoyed the whole time with you."

"So did I," Sarah said. "Thank you."

"Yes," said Billy. "Thank you, Mr. Gustafson."

"You are both quite welcome," he said, and meant it.

Somebody honked behind his car, and he left her. He drove by the video place on his way home. One tape would be enough -- more than enough, probably.

It was. The house was back in shape when 'Becca returned. Monday, 'Becca greeted him with, "You went to The Chinese Lantern without me."

"And brought you back some broccoli beef. Is any left?"

"No."

"Will you have room for dinner?"

"Sure. You didn't bring back any other leftovers?"

Well, there was no sense lying to the kid, especially about something she'd find out. "Billy Jensen and his mother went with me. They took the rest of the stuff home with them."

"What's for supper?" 'Becca asked. One crisis over.

"I was thinking of lasagna TV dinners. Gonna have room?"

"I told you I would." And she did.

He waited until 'Becca was asleep the next night to call Sarah. "This is Knut Gustafson."

"As opposed to all the other guys I know named Knut?" she answered.

"I'm sorry. At least I don't tell you: 'This is Knut Gustafson from Reuben and Metzger.' Anyway, business phone etiquette is good general phone etiquette. Do you want me to call another time?"

"Is that where you work?" she asked.

"Yeah."

Sarah changed the subject. "I found a full box of sweet and sour shrimp when I opened the doggie bag. New, untouched."

"Now, that's strange. Would you believe me if I pled ignorance?"

"Not for a minute. It's nice of you to ask us out, but I can feed my family; I don't want to be treated like a charity case." Now she was pissed.

"That's rather harsh. My life wouldn't have been worth living if I hadn't brought back a significant amount of broccoli beef. Had you or Billy eaten that all up, I would have got another carton.

"I enjoyed your company," he continued. "I enjoyed Billy's company for that matter. And I enjoy feeding you. I'll restrain myself in the future." He'd try to restrain himself in the future.

"It's just that I'm a functioning adult and a functioning parent. I need some space which is mine."

"And what is it I did Saturday, to invade your space?" Not that he wouldn't have enjoyed invading her most private space, but he'd barely touched her.

"Another thing.... Oh Knut, you were a dear. I'm just in a bitchy mood because the school has placed me in an impossible situation." She lay out a confused tale of a partial lesson plan causing problems, and she had to write a test.

"How many paragraphs could they write in an hour?" he asked.

"In a period, you mean? They're less than an hour in length." They'd felt like hours when he was in high school; some of them had felt like days. "Maybe four, likelier three."

"Give them four essay questions. Make the fourth an extra- credit gizmo if they have done the others or pulled a blank on one."

"Do you have any idea what I would get back?"

"Grade them; that would seem to be your responsibility. Give them to Miss Whatsername. Let her use your grades, regrade the tests, or ignore them. You'll have done your duty."

"I'll think about it," she said. "Was there anything more?"

"There was," he answered, "but you're busy, and I enjoy talking to you so much that I'm not going to cover two subjects in one phone call. I'll leave my invitation for supper on Christmas Eve until later. Good night, Sarah."

God! She had a sexy laugh. He hardly needed the magazine he took out of the cabinet that night.

Since he had 'Becca for most of the Christmas holiday, Candice had her for Christmas Eve. Friday, after 'Becca was in bed, he called up Sarah. Maybe he could get her to laugh again.

"This is your neighborhood sexual deviant," he said when she answered. "Please hold on for the heavy breathing." He doubted whether his heavy breathing sounded like a real sexual deviant's. Truth to tell, he hoped she didn't think that it did.

"I think I prefer the businessman," she said. She was enjoying this, but it didn't evoke her laugh.

"Some people are never satisfied. Anyway, I know that this comes as a complete surprise and that it is only four days away, but could I persuade you to have supper with me on Christmas Eve?"

"That would be sweet. Of course, it's such a surprise that I'll have to check my date book. Let's see. The twenty-fourth is free."

"But you haven't said yes," he prompted.

"Yes."

"See, that was easy. You should practice that word more. But on a slightly more serious note...."

"Yes," she said. That one word hardened him.

"I'm entitled to one phone call to thank you for the previous date and another one to ask you on a future date. On the other hand, if you wouldn't mind my calling without a purpose, then we could take care of the date-setting earlier."

"That would be fine. I enjoy these calls too. But you are a parent and understand...."

"Tell me when you're busy," he said. "I'll understand."

"And Billy and I are going to Milwaukee for almost the entire Christmas vacation. We're visiting my parents."

"Ouch! Well if it has to be, the end of the year is the best time. Sorry. You'll be having a fine time; Billy will be with his grandparents for Christmas; and all I thought about was myself."

"That's okay," she said.

"Another thing,..." he prompted.

"What?"

"That's for you to answer. In our last conversation, you started to say that there was another thing. Then you stopped."

"That was just my anger showing."

"We've covered that, Sarah. You were pissed at the world. Under those circumstances, the annoying thing which I had done was terribly annoying. But I don't want to annoy you slightly." This was going astray.

"That doesn't sound right. I don't want to annoy you to any degree, however slight. Tell me. Maybe I can do something about it; maybe I can't. But you are doing me no favor by hiding your reaction."

"Well, it's just that what Billy deserves is a couple of parents who have the same rules for him, who agree beforehand. Instead, he has two parents who enforce different sets of rules. Fred is supposed to support my rules, I think...."

"But there is no way for you to make him," he said. "I'm in sort of that situation, myself. It's probably inevitable in our situation."

"Even when the parents are still married, the two sets of rules aren't exactly identical," she said. "But what Billy doesn't need. What Billy needs not to have...."

"Is a third set of rules," he finished for her. "I can see that. I'll try to follow your lead."

"I'm perfectly willing to sit in the back seat of the car. It costs you nothing. Unlike the sweet and sour shrimp."

"Well," he said, "that is not correct. See my side for a second. Rebecca sits in the back seat when we have guests. She sits back there because adults need the legroom more than kids do. Maybe I should have told her that hosts give the best seat to guests. But what I did tell her was that adults need more legroom. Like I told Billy, its a rule of that car. So is seat belts."

"Seat belts are completely all right. Well, you said that you might not do anything about it."

"And I'll try on the other rules. It's just that, when we do agree.... And I do want to be able to have the kids around at the same time."

"Anyway, I appreciate your trying," she said.

It was the tax-season rush, and he had stayed home with 'Becca most of the weekend. He put in a full day at the office on the 24th, eating at his desk. He wasn't done, but he needed to leave; the weather outside looked awful. He called Sarah. "This is Sarah Jenkins," she answered, probably having expected him.

"Well, this isn't. Look, I'll leave in five minutes or so. I should be there by six, but I can't guarantee it in this weather."

"By six? Where are you?" she asked,

"I'm at the office."

"On Christmas eve?"

"This is the business rush. Then we have another rush for individual clients in April. I stayed home most of the weekend. Anyway, I may be late; and I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. I won't put my coat on until you ring."

"Is Middle-Eastern cooking all right?" he asked in the car.

"I haven't had much of it?"

"Do you feel like experimentation? Or would you prefer something more familiar?"

"Let's live dangerously." His kind of woman.

"I'm having some wine," he said in the restaurant after she'd ordered. "Do you want anything to drink?" She took a glass of rose'.

It being Christmas Eve, the conversation was of Christmas -- today and in the past.

"Some of my friends had one present on Christmas Eve," Sarah said, "some all of their presents. My parents would never let me open the presents before the morning of Christmas day. But the first Christmas after we were married, I persuaded Fred to open them on Christmas Eve. I had always hated to wait. Now, it'll be the evening of Christmas day; and Billy won't care."

Sarah's wine glass was empty, and he called the waitress over to order another. But she might take that as controlling. Damn it! If he were really in control, this evening would end up in her bed. But he asked if she wanted more wine. She accepted another glass.

"Shedding needles just isn't part of my picture of Christmas," Sarah said in defense of artificial trees.

These were as foreign to his experience as to his taste. "I didn't care if it was scraggly, but the Christmas tree had to be taller than I was. That was fine when I was Rebecca's age. It got to be fairly restrictive by the time I was fifteen or so. Rebecca gets insistent on crazy details, and I say 'Why me, Lord?' Then I think back. I know why it is happening to me; she's my daughter."

"And your tree this year?" Sarah asked. He restrained himself from inviting her to see it.

"It's not quite as tall as I am. But it's full; Rebecca insists on full. Maybe we have a little less to spend on presents, but I don't quite put it to her that way."

"Billy will come home loaded with presents from his father," Sarah said.

"Candice tried to make that a contest, too." he responded. "I let her win. You know Billy better than he does; you know what he'll remember in six months."

"Yeah! I know what he wants, but what he needs is clothes. He's growing so fast. And my support check will be real late in January."

"Ouch! And you are only paid when you sub."

"Friday is the only day on my next paycheck. Well, the next one would come tomorrow if it weren't for Christmas. The one after next."

"At least he warned you."

"The hell he did. It's just that the check's almost always late, and later when he has major expenses, like splurging on Billy's Christmas....

"I shouldn't have had that wine," she concluded.

"Why not?" he asked. He wanted to be her confidant. Well, he wanted to be her confidant, as well. "You can't tell Billy; he deserves to have a good image of his father, whatever his father deserves. You have to talk to somebody, and I won't quote you."

"And I keep telling myself that he can be a perfectly good father, whatever his faults as a husband."

"Some faults as a husband, sure. But the payments are for support of his son. Sorry! That's rather a sore point with me. Although I will admit that Candice is responsible on finances. Still, it galls when 'Becca sees one of my faults as a parent as that I don't provide what a traditional mother would."

"You seem an exemplary parent to me."

"You're not a sixth-grader." He pointed out. "I think kids' highest ranking for parents is 'barely adequate.' And Rebecca seldom accords me that.

"Well, enough of parenting," he changed the subject. "Are you enjoying the food?"

"Very much."

Sarah turned down a last cup of coffee. When they got to her apartment, however, she asked, "Do you want some coffee?" Well, he certainly didn't want this evening to end. He followed her in. When she dumped her coat and went to the kitchen to fix the coffee, he hung his coat and hers in the closet. She set the cups down on end tables. Did she really want them to sit on the opposite ends of the couch? But she sat far enough towards the middle of the couch so that her cup was a stretch when she picked it up. Now, that looked like an invitation to him.

He sat close to her, not touching, but close. The couch had a nice, wide, back; and he threw his arm over that back around her but not touching her.

"I'm glad we experimented," Sarah said. "That food was good."

"Yes. But there was a moment there when I was sorry that I hadn't taken you to a place where they use chopsticks. I could have given you another lesson."

"I thought I'd done a creditable job."

"Sure," he agreed, "but the people in the restaurant wouldn't have known that. If I'd taken your hands to show you how to hold a knife and fork, however, they might have guessed my motives." He took her hand in his. "Lovely hand." He kissed the back of her hand. "Lovely fingers." He kissed them.

He tugged her to him, suggestively, not forcefully. When she came into his arms, he kissed her. He kept his mouth closed at first, but -- when he licked her lips -- she allowed his tongue between them. He warned himself not to grab her lovely breasts. Instead, he moved his hand along her torso towards his goal. She'd been warned, and she didn't stop him!

The feel was as soft and firm as he knew it would be, even through blouse and bra. His right hand took one breast and his left hand took the other. Meanwhile, he kissed her face and neck and ear. He wished he could dare to unbutton that blouse and remove that bra. The breasts would feel smooth, except for their bumpy tips. And they would taste delicious, even better than her ears. But he contented himself with what he could get.

Finally, long after he must have outstayed his welcome, he eased back and cuddled her in his arms. That was another delight. And she seemed to relax there. Suddenly, though, she must have realized the time. She stiffened, hitting him with her head.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sarah said.

"Did that hurt?" She might forgive him the bruise, but he had done enough for her to forgive.

"It didn't hurt me," she said.

"Then, there's nothing to be sorry about." Indeed, she might remember her startlement rather than his staying too long. "It is time, though, for me to be on my way. I'll let you get to bed. I do apologize for staying so long. It would be totally hypocrisy to say 'I'm sorry.' But I do apologize."

She must have forgiven him. After he'd put on his coat, she allowed him another kiss.

Alone in his own apartment, showering, he remembered that kiss, that evening, those breasts. He soaped his hand and stroked himself. All his lust swirled down the drain, but he took his memories of the night to bed with him.

When Knut woke up Christmas morning, he was running late. He hadn't set the alarm the night before. Candice brought 'Becca back a few minutes early while Knut was still eating breakfast. Flight attendants were always in demand on Christmas, after all. "Thanks, mom," said 'Becca, "I love you."

"I love you, pumpkin." And Candice was gone.

"Our tree in an hour," said Knut. "Did you enjoy your time with your mother?"

"Yes, Dad. Do you know what she gave me?" She held out a copy of The Chamber of Secrets. Knut's gift of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone had been a big hit the previous year. That Candice would try to steal his thunder by giving her volume 2 was entirely predictable. So predictable, in fact, that Knut had given Rebecca a copy as soon as it was available.

"Did you thank her kindly? You know, she did choose something you would enjoy."

"Yes, Dad. I did." The tinge of boredom in Rebecca's voice was detectable. Knut felt guilty. But, after all, he was the custodial parent. He did get all the resentment for the things 'Becca needed to do and learn in order to grow up. And Candice had chosen the game; he hadn't. And there was nothing in his words that Candice could get a court hearing about -- assuming she got mad enough to challenge the custody. She couldn't complain that Knut had asked her daughter to treat her politely. Still, Knut took the same tone with Rebecca about Candice as he did about Mrs. Wang, her Sunday-school teacher -- the same tone as he did about Sarah.

Now that was a thought. "Do you want to call up Mrs. Jenkins and Billy and wish them a merry Christmas?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to do the tree first?"

"Yeah!"

"Well," he told her, "I think you should put your gifts away in your room for a few minutes. With the door closed." 'Becca was perfectly willing to hide in her room while he got the presents under the tree. She didn't pretend to believe in Santa Claus, and he didn't expect her to.

When they'd had their tree, they called Sarah. Rebecca was perfectly civil -- rehearsed but civil. Her father, on the other hand, made an ass of himself. He hinted, quite broadly, to get Sarah's phone number for the period she was away. And she turned him down. Well, this was rush time at work -- rush time at parenting, for that matter. He didn't mind that he had to put his romance on hold; it did bode ill that she didn't want his phone calls, though.

Actually, work and 'Becca were each a full-time responsibility. He juggled them rather poorly. He couldn't have done anything with Sarah. It was just as well he couldn't call her -- finding time to send her a Christmas card was a problem.

All his visits to the video store were for 'Becca. The work rush ended before the Christmas break. After his second full night's sleep, he had the first wet dream he'd had in two years. It featured Sarah quite prominently, which was better than the ones he'd had of Candice during the time after their separation.

Still, he felt a little guilty when he heard Sarah's voice on the phone. "Knut? This is Sarah Jenkins. I want to thank you for your Christmas card."

"You guys back?" he asked. Stupid! "Must be; school started today. How was your trip? I understand that O'Hare stayed open through the last patch of bad weather, but the landing couldn't have been fun."

"I wouldn't know. We went by train. It was Milwaukee. The trip was fine, if crowded on the way back. The time with my parents went great."

"That's very good to hear. Loving grandparents?"

"And loving parents," she said.

"I'm glad for you. For both of you. You're the sort of caring people who deserve caring people around you. Of course, whether it's heredity or environment, that sort of people is more likely to have caring family. Well, enough of Knut's half-baked philosophy."

"I'm glad we come across to you as caring," she said. Well, she came across as a whole lot of things which she wouldn't enjoy his mentioning, but she did come across as caring. "I'm not sure we have been." Which was a strange comment. She'd been unfailingly tolerant of his infatuated-school-boy antics. She must mean Billy's occasional problems with the back seat, but Billy could take sulking lessons from 'Becca -- and Rebecca was basically a good kid. They were both just kids.

"Billy," he answered, "is at an age where you have to expect some rough edges. He isn't nasty."

"I should have thanked you for the meal earlier, too."

"You did. If you mean the phone call, you were distracted. I made the call and decided the subject of the conversation. And that subject was Christmas and your future trip. Anyway, the pleasure was all mine."

"Not all. I enjoyed myself greatly." Which was very good news.

"Anyway, welcome back. I suppose Billy is in bed."

"Yes."

"Well," he finished "I'm glad he's back safe and sound, too, even if I don't tell him so, personally."

Well, Sarah was back. She might not have wanted him calling while she was with her family -- and who could blame her, that was their time -- but she had clearly forgiven him for his heavy-handed hint. She couldn't thank everyone who had sent her a Christmas card. Rebecca gave a Christmas card, hell! a valentine, to her teacher every year; probably Sarah's students did as well.

And the end-of-the-year rush was over. Some clients weren't finished, but that was only a trickle. If they weren't ready for the IRS on the IRS's deadline, they weren't ready for the accountants, either. He had time to invite her out again. And she sounded like she would accept.

The next opportunity wasn't really a date. "This is Knut Gustafson," he said when she'd answered the phone. "Meeting you in the store was a pleasant surprise, but it couldn't be a pleasant walk in this weather. I'm going shopping Sunday. Would you like a ride there and back?"

"That would be kind. What time?"

"That's a little uncertain. Church ends at noon, but they aren't fanatical about it. And next Sunday is communion, which always slows things down. It's in Evanston. The drive isn't much, but the weatherman is threatening snow. Let's say I'll call you, but plan for one or one-thirty. Is it okay if I park in my usual space? It's a little walk, but better than the store."

"Much better. Thank you very much."

"My pleasure. I have a cell phone, so I'll call you before one- thirty, whatever."

In the event, Rebecca's friends needed to talk about Christmas gifts after church. Everything else ran a little long, too. And then, Rebecca needed to go to the bathroom before shopping. Knut called Sarah from the apartment. It was already one-thirty. He drove to the alley behind her building to compensate. He called her from the car, and was holding the door on her side when she came down the stairs. "Now that's service," she said.

She was alone. Billy must be with his father again. She bought a lot. "Taking advantage of your kind offer," she said. "Besides, I let things run out in anticipation of the trip." He'd be willing to offer her a ride every day, let alone every other week. 'Becca was on her best behavior throughout the trip. He helped carry Sarah's purchases up her back stairs and into the kitchen. Their kiss was brief, though, and in coats. "I like holding you better when I'm holding less," he said.

"I like it better, too." Which was promising.

They picked up Rebecca's video before taking their groceries home. "Five points for Gryffindor," he said, and reached for his pad to write it down.

"Huh?"

"You were a nice person the whole time we were shopping. I don't give points for normal niceness, and you won't get many points for things like this. Still, you deserve something for being a pleasant person."

"Thanks, Dad." Then she went into her room to change. They had lunch before she started her video.

The trip had been pleasant; the day had been pleasant. Still, it looked like they would have at least one small chaperone for some time to come. He could leave 'Becca with the Sandovals for an afternoon; he could hire a babysitter, even. Still, "I have a babysitter for Rebecca, might I invite myself over," seemed a little obvious. And, of course, Billy was coming home in a few hours. If Sarah objected to Knut's buying him an extra carton of food, she'd really reject his offer of paying for a sitter.

Well, Sarah would think he was stalking her if he invited her out the next weekend. Besides, the work without a deadline had piled up in the office. He went in Saturday, took a long time over his videos that night, and cleaned house fairly thoroughly on Sunday. None of that really took his mind off Sarah.

"Feeling like cooking again?" he asked 'Becca on Monday.

"Oh Dad! Could I?"

"Feel competent? Ready to cook for company?"

"All I can cook is hamburgers."

"So why don't we invite Mrs. Jenkins over on Saturday for your hamburgers?"

"Saturday? You promised to take me and Marilyn and Jill to the movies."

So he had, and that was more treat then was good for 'Becca on one weekend, but she wouldn't ask where he'd been if he took Sarah home and stayed for an hour. "We could do both."

"Would she come?"

At the dinner table? he thought. But the joke wasn't appropriate for 'Becca, even if she would get it -- which he devoutly hoped she couldn't. "We could ask."

And, Tuesday night, he did. "This is Knut Gustafson. Is this a bad time to call?"

"This is fine," she answered.

"You'll be by yourself this Saturday?"

"Yes."

"Rebecca and I would like to invite you to dinner," he said. "Are hamburgers okay?"

"They're fine." Her tone sounded less enthusiastic than her words.

"She's cooking, and sixth graders don't have a great kitchen repertoire."

"Thanks. I'm sure that it will be fine."

"Well, you won't have to eat first." He could say that about his daughter's cooking. "Five-thirty okay? You know our address, or maybe you don't remember. It's 1217, left-hand door. We met you in the Sandovals' apartment, which is the right-hand door."

'Becca made the salad and shaped the hamburgers by herself. He cooked the green beans on one burner, before she fried the hamburgers on another. He was slicing tomatoes and an onion while she cooked -- out of the way, but there if the pan caught on fire. He diced four of the onion slices, and she fried them last. She was straightening out the table when the door buzzed. He went down to let in Sarah.

She was nice about the meal, but she didn't take any onions -- not even 'Becca's cooked ones. So, not being a fool, he let the onion slices alone. Two of the patties had got overdone, and he took them. He hadn't asked about dessert, but Sarah seemed to enjoy Rocky Road.

He warned her about the movie expedition, and she agreed to ride along. He drove her back, walked her to her door, and followed her in. He lifted her chin up for a kiss before she took off her coat and sat on the couch. He took his off, too, and joined her.

He unbuttoned her blouse and stroked her breasts for a while. They were such a delightful shape that he had to feel their texture. "Lean forward, will you?" he asked. She did! The touch of her breasts was all that he'd dreamed. The taste of the smoothness was equally delightful.

When he finally got to her nipple, she said "oh!" And, if his mouth hadn't been busy at the moment, he would have echoed her.

He held that luscious shape while his tongue met hers again. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable without these?" he asked holding her blouse. She took off her own bra.

The clear view was wonderful, but the touch was better. As he kissed her, he hugged her with his right arm so that those fingers could just brush her smoothness. His left hand could cup that breast and feel its heft.

Her mouth was delightful, but those breasts called. Shifting to reach them moved his right hand away. So he moved that to her legs. He caressed her pantyhose, going higher and higher without an objection from Sarah. Finally, he reached her center. "Oh Sarah," he exclaimed. He returned to her mouth for one more kiss while his fingers felt her dampening center through layers of cloth.

Far from rejecting him, she clasped his face to hers. She clasped tighter and grunted into his mouth. He'd brought Sarah, darling Sarah, off! He pulled his hand out. "Oh, Sarah!"

He hugged her. She trusted him enough to relax there. The trust was almost as arousing as her orgasm had been, but he had no idea how long they had spent like this. He glanced a his watch -- still ten minutes before he had to go. He cradled darling Sarah some more.

The next time he looked at his watch, the deadline had passed. Softly he said, "Look, I could hold you like this forever, if it was just me; but there will be three girls coming out of a movie theater onto a dark sidewalk in ten minutes. They'll be overheated and the street will be cold. I'd better be there."

"Thanks for the dinner," she responded. "Thanks for everything."

"The pleasure was mine," and he hated to leave it. "Thanks for the company." Then, he had a thought. "I almost forgot. On for shopping tomorrow?"

"Yes." She was answering his question, a simple question. Still, he loved to hear that word.

"Good, same constraints apply. I'll call before one- thirty."

Knut ran to the car once he'd left Sarah's building. He'd cut the time too short, but the visit had been worth it. When was the last time a girl had had an orgasm in his arms? And this was a woman. Well, Candice was a woman, too -- in body if not always in spirit. Still, he felt like he'd conquered the world. He hoped Rebecca felt sleepy after the movie. He would need his privacy tonight. He wouldn't need much privacy, though. The cabinet could stay locked. He had held a real woman in his arms.

The girls hadn't come outside yet when he reached the place. He circled once, and then parked. They were coming out of the main part as he entered the doors. Rebecca winced when she saw him. She didn't even try to come up into the front seat when he let the other girls off.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she said from the back seat.

"When are you supposed to leave the movie?"

"When the main feature is over. I look for the car, and leave the building if I see it."

"Okay," he said. "I was running late, too. I suppose I can't fault you too much when I was equally at fault. Don't do it again."

When they were in their own apartment, she gave him a hug. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, 'Becca. Discipline is one way of showing that love, whatever you think." And relaxing discipline was a very mild form of child abuse. But he was in too good a mood to even pretend to be harsh with her. And she'd been great with Sarah earlier.

The next day provided the pleasure of Sarah's company again, if not much access to her body. He carried the heavier bag of groceries up and got a sweet kiss in return. That woman could get anything from the delivery boy with the tips she gave.

He called Wednesday night. "Would it be too parental to take Billy and you to a restaurant which would broaden his culinary horizons?"

"Really?" she asked. "Really, I don't know."

"Then, why don't we split the difference. Why don't we go to a Thai restaurant on Saturday? Some of the stuff is hotter than Chinese, but I'd warn him about that."

"Who says we're going anywhere Saturday?"

He'd been too demanding again. "Why you, of course. Or, rather, you say whether you're going anywhere on Saturday. This was an invitation. It's just that -- instead of my asking you to a Thai restaurant, take it or leave it -- I'm respecting your parental judgment. You can say that you think that the Chinese would be better."

"I'm sorry, Knut. I don't know why I'm feeling bitchy."

"And I'm sorry, too. Look, this sounds like a bad time, but you've been warned. Don't take me to task for issuing the invitation so late."

He knew he was no fun at the office that week. He constrained himself around, 'Becca. Still, he would bet she was happy to go off with her mother on Friday night. He waited until Billy should be asleep to make his second call.

"This is Knut. Is this a bad time."

"A good time. I don't know why I felt you were taking control last time."

"Moi? Who could think that of me?" That got him a laugh. She had such a sexy laugh. For that matter, everything about her was sexy.

"Anyway," he continued, "it was my fault. I should have asked if it was convenient."

"I don't know why."

"Because I don't want to annoy you," he told her. "Anyway, if it's not convenient and I don't ask, tell me 'not now.' Hang up if it's really inconvenient."

"I was rude enough. I couldn't do that."

"Well, if you want to, do. To change the subject abruptly, would the two of you like to eat out tomorrow night?"

"Thank you," she said. "I'm sure you could get more pleasant company."

"Company in a better mood, maybe. Company whose presence I'd enjoy more, no. So, it's not as if I hadn't warned you. Chinese or Thai? That's assuming your 'thank you' was a yes."

"I'm not sure I could put up with a tantrum just now. And the Chinese place does have his favorite food."

"Chinese it is. Another change of subject. You aren't working on King's birthday. Billy and Rebecca are off school. Would you like a joint expedition to the Museum of Science and Industry?"

"Surely, you're working then."

"The office will be open. The rush will be over. I don't really get comp time, much less overtime. But, after the hours I worked, nobody is going to object to a day off. On the other hand, the museum will probably be overrun with kids."

"So would the apartment. I thank you very much. I accept."

Having asked Sarah out on a joint expedition, he needed it to be joint. "You'll be home Monday," he said to 'Becca when she returned Sunday evening.

"I won't let anybody in. Can I go out to the park if it's warm enough?"

"Well, I thought of taking a day off. How'd you like to go to the Museum of Science and Industry?"

"Cool!"

"I think I'll invite Billy and his mother to go with us. I don't know how much they've seen the place. Can you show Billy where you go?"

"Dad! He's a second grader."

"Therefore he needs the guidance of your superior experience."

"His mom's grown up, a teacher."

"So?"

"So she won't need you to show her around."

Some days, he wondered if 'Becca had learned anything. This was one of the times she seemed to know everything. "We'll manage to find our way around. Probably following you."

"Okay." Which could mean anything. It might just mean that 'Becca would rather share the good times with Sarah and Billy than be bored at home.

She certainly accepted the carton of broccoli beef without commenting on his visiting The Chinese Lantern by himself. He'd have to be sure that he didn't slight her restaurant experiences just because he had enough of his own with Sarah.

'Becca was more cooperative about getting up for the expedition than she was on school days. Damn! He should have checked to see what Sarah's schedule was for that day.

He called to find out. She had specifically said not to call on the mornings of school days. "I'm parked closer to your place than to mine." Mr. Sandoval was having some work done, and their was a truck in his usual space. "Mind if we come by and we all walk to the car together?"

"That would be fine," Sarah said.

"You guys ready to roll, or do you need more time?"

"Let us get on our coats."

"Ten minutes, then."

He and 'Becca had their bathroom break and got on their coats. When -- for once -- he wanted to dawdle , it not having been the ten minutes he'd promised, she walked briskly towards the Jenkins' apartment. "Hello," he said when Sarah answered the bell. "Ready to roll?"

"Hello Mrs. Jenkins," 'Becca said. "Hi Billy." Sarah returned both greetings; Billy nodded shyly to 'Becca.

He handed in Billy, Sarah, and 'Becca in that order. When he checked 'Becca's belt, he gave her a point. "Does Billy get a point?" she asked.

"Okay." But he'd better check. "Billy, do you want to play?"

"You can be in Slitherin," said 'Becca. And she'd been so nice up to that point.

"And that," he said "is ten points off. If you'd said 'Hufflepuff' I wouldn't have minded. But Harry and Hermione and all those guys are in Gryffindor together." 'Becca nodded. "Okay, Billy, do you want to be in the same house as Rebecca?"

As an Aside to Sarah, he said, "That was less suggestive than it sounded. I'll explain when we're rolling."

Billy said, "Okay."

"If I check your belt like I checked Rebecca's, that's a point for your house." Since Billy looked agreeable, he checked.

"I'm writing that as a minus nine," he told 'Becca when the car and his notebook were ready. "Why don't we treat this trip separately?

"Do you want to do the writing?" he asked Sarah.

"Sure," she said. "I don't know what I'm writing though."

So he explained the Harry Potter phenomenon. Apparently her son and her classes bracketed the age of the major audience. From the generalities of the books themselves, he moved to how he and 'Becca used the point system themselves. "Mrs. Jenkins, Billy's mom, can give points, too," he said for the benefit of the two kids.

Traffic on Lake Shore Drive was moving faster than on the feeder streets, but it -- all moving together -- needed less of his attention. And, since he wasn't going to have to slam on his brakes, the back seat needed less, too. That meant that he could give Sarah more nearly the attention she deserved. "Been to the museum before?" he asked her. She -- as 'Becca had said -- was a teacher, after all.

"No."

"That's right. You're from Milwaukee aren't you?"

"Grew up outside of there. My parents live in the city now." He'd grown up in Evanston, which didn't keep him from being a Chicagoan.

"The museum is where a lot of field trips go, though you'd think that the Museum of Natural History would get the field trips." She made no comment. He couldn't tell whether she hadn't got the joke or she was politely ignoring the corn. Anyway, explaining it wouldn't lead to her sexy laugh. "I'm surprised you haven't taken a group there. Anyway, there are things intended for adults. Probably most of it is intended for adults. Myself, I like what one of 'Becca's Sunday-School teachers said. 'The compensation for teaching Sunday School is you get to do finger painting after you're supposed to have grown up.' I follow 'Becca around, enjoy what she enjoys, and pretend to be a jaded sophisticate watching over my kid. Anything you want to see, anything special, I'll watch the two of them. Anything you especially want Billy to see, we'll all go together."

"That's very generous of you."

"Not very. When you see the museum you'll understand. There's not much I won't enjoy. And I'll enjoy Billy's enjoyment, too. I enjoy Rebecca's." He might enjoy Sarah's more, but let's not mention that. "You a claustrophobe?"

"No. Why?"

"Two of the exhibits are a coal mine and a U-boat. Might bother claustrophobes. For that matter, watch out for signs of Billy's being affected. You'd be more sensitive to that than I would."

"I don't think he's claustrophobic either."

"Not normally. These exhibits can affect a kid -- adults even -- oddly."

At the museum, 'Becca was happy to show Billy around. You'd think that a girl who so loved being bossy would be more amenable to his suggestion of a clear opportunity. He paid less attention to their enjoyment, though, and more to Sarah's.

They traded kids for a bathroom break, showing Sarah one more advantage to being partnered with him.

They went through the cafeteria line with the kids in between them. This gave him occasional rear views of Sarah, though 'Becca was mostly in his line of vision. Sarah objected to his paying the whole amount. "I didn't need to invite you at all," he explained. "Having done so, I'd be a poor host if I invited you to pay your own way."

As they were leaving the museum, he checked her schedule for the day. She hadn't any, but it would be time for Billy to eat again. It would be time for Sarah to eat again, though she didn't mention that. Neither of them was paying much attention to the conversation, since the kids were far ahead. 'Becca, who almost always did, stopped before going into the street. She stopped Billy, too. He had, at least, looked before he started across. Knut thanked his lucky stars that Billy and 'Becca were 'in the same house.' The Hogwarts faculty -- or Rowling, depending on how you looked at it -- knew something.

"Points," he told Sarah. "Hang 'Becca in a dark closet by her toenails, and she'd play at being a bat. Award her points and she acts like a saint."

He thought that comment was worth a laugh. He'd had to suppress his own -- totally inappropriate -- laughter when 'Becca had said it the first time. Sarah clearly didn't think it worth one of her laughs.

Well, he was sure that 'Becca would approve of his latest scheme to keep the foursome together. "Chinese Lantern again?" he asked when the car was again on Lake Shore Drive.

'Becca had eaten broccoli beef the previous night, but she'd want it again. He'd bet billy was the same way. "Sweet and sour shrimp?" he asked him in the restaurant. Billy wanted it again. 'Becca wanted the broccoli beef. "And what would you like?" he asked Sarah.

"Pepper steak." Woman after his own heart. Still, that was what he was going to choose.

"Choose another," he said. Damn! And she objected to his being parental with Billy. Predictably, though, Sarah let the offense to herself pass.

"Mushroom egg fou young." An interesting choice.

"Billy, the last. It can't be shrimp and it can't be sweet- and-sour." Let the kid seek a little diversity.

"But, you haven't chosen," Sarah said.

"Oh. I was going to take the pepper steak." Hadn't he been clear about that?

"You choose the last."

"Okay. Pork fried rice." 'Becca wouldn't eat more than a token amount of that, but he wanted to see Billy's response.

Sarah took a large helping of broccoli beef. See! You two are so compatible that you should be in the same household. And you can't do that without marrying me. But he said none of that.

Then Sarah looked guiltily towards 'Becca. It wasn't 'Becca's dish; it was the dish 'Becca had ordered for all of them. "It is good, isn't it?" 'Becca said, knowing that he'd buy her an extra carton if Sarah finished it up. And she knew that he wouldn't buy her an extra carton if 'Becca gobbled it in the restaurant.

"Transparent, 'Becca," he said. "I can see the back of your chair." Still, 'Becca was being nice. He'd buy the extra carton; she hadn't consumed it herself, and being nice to get your own way was behavior he was trying to instill. He'd long since given up on yielding to the desires of others. That was a virtue 'Becca would never learn, or it was one he was in no position to teach; maybe both.

Going out of the restaurant, 'Becca acted antsy. When they were in the car and seat belts checked, he asked her, "Want to go straight home?" He gave her one of the bags of leftovers in front of their place.

"Gee, thanks Dad," 'Becca said, apparently forgetting her bladder on feeling the three boxes in her sack.

"Don't thank me too hard, one of those is the fried rice." He usually ate lunch away from his desk, but the fried rice would be a welcome change. The office had a 'fridge and a microwave.

"Sorry," he told Sarah. "Neither of you seemed to enjoy it."

They had a kiss while Billy's attention was diverted. It was pleasant, if brief.

And the memory of that kiss, along with fantasies of extending it, was his companion in bed that night.

The fried rice was the main part of his lunch Wednesday and Friday. He didn't want the same food two days in a row, breakfast excepted. But, since he didn't really wake up until long after he and 'Becca were out of the house, breakfast didn't threaten boredom. But, whatever enjoyment it had given the kids, he'd inflicted the Chinese Lantern on Sarah twice forty-eight hours apart. They should try something else.

"Look, we were at The Chinese Lantern Monday," he pointed out to Sarah in a Friday-night phone call. "Do you think Billy would be willing to expand his horizons tomorrow?"

Maybe Turkish was too great an expansion. Billy didn't enjoy it, and Sarah -- in addition to dealing with Billy's unhappiness -- seemed to be less taken with the food than she'd been with the other places he'd taken her.

Her kiss at the end of the evening was less enthusiastic, as well. He headed to the video-rental place on his way home.

Even when he called Sarah to arrange their shopping trip, she sounded subdued. If it was her period, he could ride with it. If it was something he'd done, he could try to correct it. But he couldn't ask.

She was still subdued on the way to the store. Once there, she was a less-than-enthusiastic shopper. She even seemed to overlook sale-pricing of a product she often bought. "You buy these crackers, don't you?" he asked her "They're on sale this week. Better stock up."

"Can't," she said. "I can't afford what I'm buying now. God knows when my support check will come through." Well, one problem solved. She was in bad mood, not mad at him. Another problem, though. She didn't have enough for herself and her son, which meant that she'd really skimp on herself. Well, the crackers weren't a problem; he took four boxes. But she couldn't live on crackers; even Billy couldn't live on crackers.

What did both of them eat? He didn't want Billy going hungry; aside from his being a nice kid, she'd suffer more than he would. He couldn't take them out to The Chinese Lantern every night. Well, they ate rice. He tipped a twenty-pound bag into his cart.

He couldn't think of anything else, and he couldn't think of a way to get the food to Sarah either. When they were on the way home, he figured out the second part. Sarah went up the stairs first; she had the key. He asked 'Becca to go second. He picked up the bag of rice; he couldn't find the crackers and didn't have a hand for them anyway.

Her face was not pleasant when she saw him set the rice down. "Not in front of Rebecca," he said and skedaddled. 'Becca joined him in the car promptly. He let her go ahead without any load. He had all their groceries upstairs and the frozen stuff put away before 'Becca came out of the bathroom. They split the work after that, he loaded the higher cabinets, including -- very early -- the crackers.

He did some thinking that afternoon while 'Becca watched her video. After she -- and, presumably, Billy -- was safely asleep, he called Sarah. "This is Knut Gustafson. Can Billy hear?"

"He's asleep. He's been asleep for hours."

"So's 'Becca. You can tell me what you think of me now."

"You are the sorriest excuse for a human being that ever lived," she said. "You can pick up your rice tomorrow. Otherwise I'll throw it in the garbage." That was a problem, but not much of one. If she was going to throw away the rice, she'd have done it when her anger was white-hot.

He did, however, point out her dilemma. "Billy eats rice. I've seen him. If it's a matter of your eating crow or Billy eating nothing, you'll eat crow. You're a mother."

"So are you." He laughed. Well, the woman had spunk. Now if she would only curse out the ingrate of an ex, and see that Knut was what she needed. Still, it was better to see her spitting mad -- even at him -- than dragging her tail.

"It's not funny," she said. "You think I'll sell myself for a meal or two."

"Now that is unfair. What would have happened if I hadn't bought the rice but had carried your groceries up the stairs? You'd have kissed me. No...? So, I didn't buy the rice because I thought I would get more from you. I knew I would get less."

"I'm not a charity case."

"You're not. You're the woman I love." Now where had that come from? But it was true. "And I won't see you going hungry. That's the bottom line. Now I like Billy. I'd rather feed him than have him lack basic nutrients in his growing years." Let her think about that when she wanted to throw out the rice. "There is something in us that wants the best for young kids. Probably the cavemen without that gene killed off their own descendants. But my feeling for you is much more basic. And Billy is my weapon. You would throw out perfectly good food rather than accept my care for you. You won't let your kid go hungry. Period." Which should remind her that these were her only options.

"I'm the woman you love? You're the man I hate! How about that?"

"That's sad." It wasn't terribly sad, though. Indifference, now, would have been tragic. "But the choice is between your hating me and your harming yourself. I'll take the first. That's a choice I'll have to live with."

She disconnected so fast his ears hurt. Well, Sarah was the sort of woman who would regret that later. When he called Thursday, and again Friday, though, she did it again.

Saturday morning, though she allowed him to speak. "This is Knut Gustafson."

"Yes, Mr. Gustafson. What do you want?"

"I'll let that opening pass." Stupid, Knut! This wasn't the time for suggestive comments. "The reason I called was to invite you and your son to dinner with me."

"No thank you."

"That's too bad. Thank you for your neighborly civility. Have a good day."

He suggested to 'Becca that they invite Sarah and Billy over to eat her hamburgers. He was probably transparent, but 'Becca was interested enough in cooking that she wasn't going to make a snide comment. Sarah accepted for Billy, and to 'Becca.

He called to clear the vegetable with Sarah. In the first place, Billy was going to enjoy this visit. In the second, the boy probably needed his veggies especially right now. After the way Sarah had reacted, he wasn't about to offer the crackers, let alone another shopping trip to her right now.

He could see Sarah, if not touch her, when she brought Billy over. Billy really liked 'Becca's hamburgers. And 'Becca decided she liked Billy's appreciation of those burgers. Billy even ate the cooked onions after he saw 'Becca use them. He ate a good serving of peas, and a nominal amount of lettuce. Knut indulged himself with the raw onions since there was no chance Sarah would get close enough to smell his breath. Aside from the wrong Jenkins being the guest, the evening was quite a success.

Sarah didn't come down for Billy when Knut walked him back. So he only got a glimpse of her at the top of the stairs. And she kept taking those EL trains where hundreds of men could watch her climbing the stairs up to the platform. Life was a bitch.

He let the situation rest for a few days, but he was afraid it might be festering, instead. He had 'Becca this weekend, which meant Sarah would be alone. When 'Becca was in bed, he called up Sarah. "This is Knut Gustafson. Look, I know you're mad at me. If you want to say how much, I'll listen."

"No.... I might have been too hard on you."

That was a relief. "Well, if so, that's a bygone. You're still in trouble. What help am I allowed to give?"

"You could pay my rent this month." That was a lot, even for that dinky apartment. On the other hand, he had offered.

"Fine. How much and to who? If you want cash, that'll take nearly a day."

"To whom. When it's the object of a preposition, you are supposed to use the objective case."

"To whom is the check to be made out?" He knew grammar, although it sounded phony as hell.

"Oh Knut, you are impossible!" She hung up, although softly this time.

Well, he could deal with that. He wasn't sure he could deal with her going hungry. He called back. "This is Knut again," he said. "Look, I was serious. I gather that you weren't. What I was really asking was whether I should drive you to the store Sunday. If you want more, then you'll get more. Within reason; I'm not Bill Gates."

"I'm not shopping this week. I'll live on rice."

That didn't sound good. He should have given her a more balanced diet, though he still didn't see how. "You're cutting off your nose to spite your face, which is your decision. It's your nose. Will you cut off Billy's?"

"I'll call you back." Which was promising.

The phone rang shortly, he crossed his fingers before saying, "Knut Gustafson speaking."

"Knut," Sarah said. "I was wrong. You were absolutely right."

"Well, that's an improvement. Maybe no more accurate, but much better than being an arrogant motherfucker."

She laughed her wonderful, sexy, laugh. He'd missed that laugh. "Well, you're that, too."

He laughed, partly in joy that she had her spirit back. "Anyway, the question stands. What help am I allowed to give you? You're not begging, you know. You're not even asking. You rejected my offers, but I didn't withdraw them. Except a few that have expired. You can't come to dinner last Monday, but that isn't a withdrawn invitation. I'll shut up."

"I think I followed that." More than he had.

"Sounds like a woman who reads essays written for high school English classes."

She laughed, again. "You were better than that."

"Damned with faint praise. Anyway, what help am I allowed to give you? A ride to the store Sunday?"

"I have Billy this weekend."

"He's been in the car before. I don't know how he would behave in the store."

"I don't know what I can afford."

"Do you have enough to last until you get more money?" he asked her. That was the question. "Because, if you don't, I could front you the cash. That's only because you've rejected my paying for it. I am perfectly willing to do that. But, if your independence is better served with a loan, I'll go that route."

"I'll look."

"And, since you have him home and we didn't eat out last Saturday, would you be my guests this Saturday? 'Becca would be along, of course."

"I'll think about it." Which was promising.

"Or Sunday. Time would be a problem. I don't want Billy having to go in the restaurant again. I don't like that restroom. The whole street is like that. Food to die for; restrooms to die from."

She laughed. He was on a roll.

"You have a great laugh. A...," He brought himself up short. "Let's keep this on a friendly note."

"Huh?"

"I was censoring myself. A little late."

"Tell me what you thought."

"You won't get mad?" he asked. Of course, she'd get mad. Still, promising not to would help her get over her anger faster.

"I'll get mad if you don't tell me." Which wasn't quite the response he'd hoped for.

"I was going to say that you have a sexy laugh. Can't be the first time you've heard that. Sorry. Should have kept the thought to myself."

"You're forgiven."

"Well, I'll leave it at that. Forgiveness is a virtue; don't want to drain yours dry."

"What is the next thing I'm expected to forgive you."

"'Expected' is a strong word," he said. "I was hoping you'd forgive me about the crackers. I should forget them, but they're apparently favorites of Billy's and they're just taking up room in my cupboard."

"Crackers?"

"They were on sale, then I couldn't get them out then and still follow 'Becca up your stairs in time."

"You got crackers for me?" She sounded, if anything, pleased. Who could predict a woman?

"They were on sale." He tried to explain himself. "Look, I thought of the crackers first. You know you would be buying them later, when they're not on sale. Then, having thought of that, I thought of what I knew you'd both eat and would feed you in an emergency. I thought of the rice. They don't go together; I know that. I was just acting off the top of my head."

"Well, you were thinking of me."

"Then I can bring them over?" he asked.

"You can bring them over." Now, that was forgiveness.

"Front door." She'd remember kisses on the back porch. Not that he didn't want her to remember those, but he didn't want her to fear a repetition right then.

She turned down dinner, but accepted a ride to the store. There, she accepted a loan of $50, which more than covered her groceries.

The next Saturday, she still wouldn't eat out with him, but her refusal was polite. Monday evening, he asked 'Becca, "Feel like cooking again?"

"Would you invite Billy again?"

"One of us would."

"And his mom?"

"It would only be polite to ask. I don't know if she'd come. She did ride to the store with us. You know, Billy does appreciate your cooking."

"Dad, he's in second grade."

"I don't suggest making him a close friend. More that you have a fan."

"How about just for you and me?"

"How about cooking 'cause 'Becca enjoys cooking, and inviting Billy and his mother 'cause Dad enjoys inviting Billy and his mother?"

"Okay. Tomorrow?"

"That's a bit too soon. I have to buy the meat and buns. How about Wednesday?" Then he had a thought. "Want to cook the vegetable too."

"Yeah!"

When Knut got home Tuesday, 'Becca called and got an acceptance for Billy. Figuring that 'Becca needed to practice on vegetables, he had her cook their spinach for dinner that night. She liked spinach, for a wonder.

Again, Sarah brought Billy over but came no further than the door. Again, Billy visibly enjoyed 'Becca's cooking. "Enjoy yourself?" he asked after he'd come back from walking Billy home.

"Yeah," said 'Becca. "Think I should cook our vegetables every night?"

"You'll soon tire of that. How about every other night for the rest of this week..." Which was two days, max. "...and next?"

"And?"

"And then we'll see." If she was still enthusiastic, they'd continue.

And continue they did. The added worry was more than the minimal effort he saved, but 'Becca was -- very slowly -- learning to be a survival cook. The next Saturday she was home, she cooked burgers and peas for just the two of them.

That Sunday, they took Sarah to the store. She didn't need to borrow any more money. "I'll never be able to pay that back," she said.

"Well, don't worry about it," he said. "Just warn me if you need more; I might not have it on me. I can always get fifty over from the store, and more than that from the bank on a day's warning." Not that he was particularly enthusiastic about further loans. He didn't mind advancing her some cash, but he did mind that these were the only advances she'd accept from him.

Two weeks later, Sarah accompanied them to the store again. "Don't start the car yet," she said while they were still outside. In the car, she paid him back. "You don't know how much that meant these weeks."

Well, it was about time. Now, he could romance this lovely woman without her regarding him like the evil banker collecting his pound of flesh. "Mrs. Jenkins has paid her debt in full," he told 'Becca. "You're a witness."

Once in her kitchen he said, "Now you don't owe me anything at all."

"Knut," she answered, "I owe you loads. Not only the money. I always will."

Damn! Of all the relationships he could have with this woman, 'creditor' was least desirable. "Does that mean that I'll never be allowed to kiss you again?"

"Huh?"

"I couldn't kiss you when you owed me money, 'cause you would have thought of yourself as a kept woman."

"Knut, stand there," she responded. When he shut his mouth, she wrapped her arms around him. He kissed her. Their tongues met.

"Oh Sarah!"

And, since she seemed to have really forgiven him, he called that night after 'Becca was asleep. Billy probably was, too, but he reminded himself that he didn't know what crisis might be affecting Sarah. "This is Knut Gustafson," he began. "Is this an okay time to talk?"

"Any time," she answered.

"I don't want blanket permission. I want to know whether this interrupts something important."

"It interrupts housework, thank God."

"I'll take that as permission. Look, we need to work out a code. Hows about, when you think I've gone too far, you don't clam up; you don't shut me out? Hows about when I go too far, you just slap my face?"

She laughed her sexy laugh. "Oh, Knut. You are impossible. I won't slap your face.... I won't unless I really need to. Tell you what. When I think you've gone too far, I'll tell you so."

"That would work, too. Would it be going too far to ask you out to dinner?"

"That would be fine."

"You have Billy Saturday?" he asked. "If I'd had one brain cell, I wouldn't have given you rice. All I could think of was what I'd seen the two of you eat. But that makes the restaurant less special."

"My rice doesn't compete with theirs. For one thing, I don't fix sweet and sour shrimp with it."

"You don't? Anyway, five-thirty at your front door? Saturday."

"That would work."

"Then it's a date. How have you been otherwise?"

She'd been working, which was something she worried about. The work was teaching teenagers, which was frustrating. Still she seemed in a good mood.

In The Chinese Lantern, he shaped Billy's hand for the chopsticks again. He'd rather hold Sarah's hand, whether she needed instruction or not. Apparently sensing this, she said, "I won't slap your face." He managed to let go soon enough to avoid scandal.

When they got back, Sarah took care of Billy's coat and her own. He opened his, but had not the slightest excuse for removing it, While Billy visited the bathroom, his mother visited Knut. It was their first kiss in ages.

He behaved as a gentleman while he was there, but the memory of her shape against him made renting a video superfluous.

He took 'Becca to a Vietnamese restaurant the next Saturday. It wouldn't be fair to cut down her eating out just because his was rising again. They took Sarah shopping Sunday, and he had a sweet kiss for his pains.

She and Billy went out with him again the next Saturday. He thought he had to warn her of his work load before the kiss. "Look out," he said in the car, "the rush season at work for individuals is coming up. I'll take you to the store Sunday, but not the next time. Buy what you need; I'll lend you the cash again, if you want. I'll be lucky to get 'Becca to church that week."

"Sounds rugged."

"It's fairly tight, but it's brief." And she didn't hold it against him. He held her against him, though, while Billy put away the leftovers and visited the bathroom.

Sarah must have forgiven him thoroughly. She called him Wednesday. "During your time at the office,..."

"Yes?" he prompted.

"I could cook a good deal more than hamburgers when I was in the sixth grade."

He could see where she was going. "Not while I'm in the office. Rebecca's not going to turn on the stove when she's in the house alone."

"But I'll be home and Rebecca will be home," Sarah said.

"Why don't you let her mother have her?" she asked suddenly.

"Candice has alternate weekends scheduled for flights. Canceling would be too much trouble." Not that he was about to suggest changing the schedule in her favor.

"Well," Sarah said "I'd be available. I could teach her how to cook meatloaf or something. If you approve, I could offer to teach her. This Sunday would be a good time to bring it up."

"That's a great idea. Thanks, I'll tell her."

"No you won't!" Sarah said. "I was running it past you before I brought it up with Rebecca. She's the person who would be learning, she's the person to whom I'll make the offer. You have to make some decisions for your daughter, Knut. I wouldn't ask her to let me in -- much less turn on the stove -- without your permission. But you don't make all the decisions for her. Honestly! It's a wonder she has any backbone -- living with you." He'd stepped in it again.

"Triumph of heredity over environment. I don't run her life; girl runs mine. Okay. I don't accept for her. I do allow you to ask her -- and to do it when she accepts. Aside from appreciating you, 'Becca is mad about cooking. Teach her to cook meatloaf and she'll love you forever. Well, love you until you cross her, which is as good as I get."

Sunday, Sarah suggested it to 'Becca. "Oh, Mrs. Jenkins. That would be super!"

"Should we buy the stuff now?" he asked. Why else ask now?

"It's a little early to buy meat," Sarah said. "Rebecca, what do you think? We could go to the store just the two of us and buy everything we need. Shopping for the meal is part of preparation."

"I'd like that," said 'Becca.

"I might not provide presence," he said, "not that either of you seem to want my presence. But I can provide the cash. Will $20 cover it?"

"It would be much too much," Sarah said.

"Better too much than too little."

The kiss in her kitchen was delightful, but he as blocking the alley.

He managed to get out of work Friday at five. He was home to hand 'Becca off to Candice. He put in nearly a full day Saturday, getting home in time to take Sarah and Billy to The Chinese Lantern. The kiss was the one bright spot in the week. He let the laundry go and the video store, too. The tape, and his memories of Sarah, sufficed. He put in a nearly-full day Sunday.

He worked over lunch all the next week, snatching something at his desk. He came home late with Thai take-out Monday and Thursday nights. Saturday, he left 'Becca preparing for Sarah. When he got home, 'Becca was in bed and a lovely dinner was waiting in the 'fridge. He'd eaten once, but that was hours before. Sunday, 'Becca spent the way home from church telling him what a wonderful woman Mrs. Jenkins was. He bought her two films for the VCR and took some meat loaf to work. He only spent a few hours there, though. He was home to cook them a supper.

He couldn't see Sarah the next week. He barely saw the apartment that weekend. By the next Sunday, though, the rush was over. When he and 'Becca took Sarah shopping, he apologized for slacking off. "No problem," Sarah said. "I'm just glad I could take up a little of the slack."

"More than that. I couldn't teach 'Becca to cook like that. I'm a survival cook; we go out for anything good."

She came into his arms in her kitchen. They cuddled and kissed until he had to say, "'Becca will be wondering where I am."

He called her on Tuesday to ask, "Can you and Billy go out to the Chinese Lantern Saturday?"

"Billy can't," she replied. "He'll be with his father that weekend."

Did that mean what he hoped that meant? "Then can you?"

"I'd be pleased," Sarah said. 'Becca nowhere around; Billy nowhere around. Sarah hadn't promised anything, but Knut could hope. He stopped off at a loop drugstore to buy Trojans on his lunch hour Wednesday.

And, since they didn't have to worry about Billy's eating habits, either, he called her again Thursday evening. "The Chinese Lantern is a fine place, but what I'm really looking forward to is your company. The Turkish place wasn't a success, it's been a while since the Middle Eastern place. Should we go back there? Should we stick to The Chinese Lantern? Should I surprise you?"

"Surprise me!" she said. "But what should I wear?"

Immediately his mind pictured her in high-heeled shoes and nothing else. "Don't hand me straight lines like that when I'm trying to be a gentleman."

"Then what will you be wearing?"

"An ordinary business suit," he said.

"All right."

"5:30 again?" The schedule was for Billy's benefit, but she'd be used to it. "I'll have my car."

"Fine." My! she was agreeable.

She hadn't promised anything; his imagination might be leading him astray in a second adolescence. Still, he put one of the Trojans in the breast pocket of his shirt, and then he hid it with a folded piece of paper. He checked in the bathroom mirror to make sure that it was undetectable. He combed his hair once more before starting out for his date. He rang her bell when his watch said 5:29.

Sarah came down the steps from her apartment looking delicious. She was dressed to the nines. "I'm impressed," he said. 'Aroused' would have been more honest, but would have struck her as gauche.

The Korean dinner pleased her. The food was good, but her company pleased him more. She continued her story of a school day through their entry into her apartment as if she took his accompanying her home for granted. Now, that was acceptance.

"Thanks for coming," he said.

"Thanks for inviting me."

They had one kiss standing, then sat together on the couch for another. After tasting her mouth and hugging her shape, he unbuttoned her fancy blouse. He needed to look to figure out her bra, but -- once he looked -- it opened from the front. She wanted his caresses! "Oh, Sarah," he said before putting his mouth to better use.

He needed to kiss so much of her, but he only had one mouth. After exploring her mouth once more, they got into a more comfortable position for his kissing the rest. She lay down on the couch while he knelt beside it. He kissed from one delightful nipple to the next and then back.

Wonderfully accepting, she clasped his head to her breast while he caressed her center. Wonderfully responsive, she came for him even though she was still wearing pantyhose and panties. He was almost certain when she stiffened, and then her sounds were unmistakable.

She looked worried, though."Billy's way across town. Nobody can hear you but me. And I love you," he reassured her.

He kissed her face. As she recovered, his kisses went lower on her torso. "Help me with this," he said with his hands on her pantyhose. She raised her torso, accepting him!

He didn't have the nerve to try for her skirt. Even above her waist, there was so much to kiss. As his mouth moved up her belly, his hand moved up her thigh. Even when he reached her center, her response was positive; her legs parted to give him room. "Oh Sarah!" She was so wet, and her clit was so prominent! Her nipple was stiff in his mouth, and she moved her center against his hand.

She held his head against the breast he was sucking. Then, she groaned again. Delightful Sarah; desirable woman. He enjoyed all of her sounds and motions, but he was so stiff that his trousers were uncomfortable. And the slight pressure of the wrapped Trojan against his chest, undetectable for hours during the meal and after, now burned like a brand.

He sat beside the couch, though, holding his love as she returned from where he had sent her. When she relaxed, he rose to look for her bedroom. One door was the bathroom, one was Billy's room, one was the closet, and one led outside -- he already knew those. The only doors in the kitchen were the back door and one into the closet-sized "pantry." That was it!

Sarah was still lying on the couch; but she was a quality lady, not a high-school slut. Now that he looked closely (closely? he was looking desperately), the couch was convertible. Get her up, sit her on a chair, pull out the couch, lead her to the bed? Impossible! She was recovering from her passion even now.

He had to get out of there before he did something she would resent. "Love you," he said. He kissed her forehead first, but couldn't resist that mouth. He had to get out while he could resist anything.

Once back in his own apartment, he put the Trojan back in the locked cupboard. He got some magazines out before stripping, but they were unnecessary. The memory of Sarah's sounds, Sarah's motions, the taste of Sarah's breasts, the feel of Sarah's center were really enough. The sniff he took of his right hand where it had bathed in her juices was more than he needed, but it was wildly erotic.

The next morning, he showered and changed his sheets. He resisted calling Sarah before he'd done his laundry. Once back, though, lunch eaten, beds made, he had to call her.

It rang so long he'd almost given up when she answered the phone. "This is Knut. Is this a bad time?"

"No, but let me get the door." A long pause, but whoever had been at the door didn't seem to be somebody she invited in. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I just wanted to tell you that you are a beautiful woman with a delightful personality and a remarkably kissable abdomen. I had a marvelous time last night."

"I had a marvelous time, too." Which was delightful to hear.

"I'm glad. Partially because I love you and want you to enjoy yourself. You strike me as always looking out for Billy's benefit, and -- after all -- if you don't, who will. That's too complicated. But since all your attention is to his pleasure, somebody else needs to see to yours. I'm appointing myself to that office. But, even more, I'm glad because -- if you enjoy yourself with me -- then you'll be willing to be with me more often. And that's my summum bonum." This was much too complicated, and she was an English teacher. He'd have to work on his grammar and composition if he wanted to date an English teacher.

"Did I say that right?"

"Knut, you're going to give me a swelled head."

"Not a danger. Well, you sound busy. I'll let you go."

"Goodbye," she said.

And it had been a marvelous time, more marvelous than any he could look forward to in the next two weeks. On the other hand, a little planning might make the next time even more marvelous. He needed to bring her back here. Why? She wasn't the sort of woman you invited back to your apartment because the bed was easier to get at. How about a movie in his VCR? And not one of the XXX jobs. Sarah was a lady. Romance or comedy? She had such a delightful laugh. Anyway, a romance would be too obvious.

A movie date, just like in high school. But, if she happened to be willing, he would happen to have a bed at hand. Which meant he would have to clean up his bedroom. Maybe, he should clean it twice, even three times. Tonight, so any smell would have two weeks to dissipate so as not to offend a sensitive female nose -- and a cute nose it was, too. Next weekend, including a laundry -- that accumulation must have an odor as well. And Friday before he invited her over.

He needed a few purchases, too. Monday, 'Becca asked when she could cook meat loaf again. After she was in bed, he called Sarah. "I didn't just call to say 'I love you,'" he said, "even though I do. Is this a good time?"

"It's always a fine time to talk to you."

"Not always, and you should tell me when it isn't."

"You never call in the mornings," she said.

"Should I? I thought getting yourself and Billy ready...."

"No you shouldn't. That's what your comment about bad times brought to mind. If Billy's having a tantrum or dinner is boiling over on the stove, I can tell you 'later' or simply not answer. The morning is when I get calls from the sub center. I have to answer, and -- if you call, and I say 'not now,' and they don't call that morning -- then I'll never know whether they called then and got a busy signal. So, if you want to know a good time not to call -- a bad time to call -- it's mornings of school days."

"I'll remember that," he said. "Anyway, aside from saying that you're beautiful and adorable, which can't be said too often, I had an actual subject to discuss. Billy will be home next weekend?"

"Yes."

"So will 'Becca. What do you think of her inviting the two of you to dinner?"

"Do you need to hide behind her skirts?"

"Her apron. She wants to cook meatloaf again."

"Sounds delightful," Sarah said.

"Good. This isn't the actual invitation; that will come from her. It's just that I don't want her to get her expectations up and then not met. And I don't want her to call when Billy can hear and have him hear you refuse."

"Sometimes kids have to hear that things are impossible." Sarah sounded like an experienced parent.

"Oh yes! And 'Becca hears that a lot. It's just that, what you and I see as impossible, the kid might see as an imposition of the parent's selfish will. Some years ago, I went through that about going to work when 'Becca was home. You know, I only audit those accounts because it's so much fun; if I really loved her, I'd stay home and play with her."

"And you don't think that auditing is that much fun?"

"I'd rather conduct an audit than undergo a root canal." That might be too strong. "Most days, I'd rather conduct an audit than undergo a root canal. Dentist's visits are another thing I impose on her out of sheer sadism. Anyway,..." He was talking about himself again.

"Anyway?"

"Anyway, enough about me. How did you feel about my performance?" No laugh. He was trying too hard. "I think we have established several things this conversation. An invitation from 'Becca would be welcome. Eat at six again? Saturday?"

"Both sound fine."

"And will Billy come along on the shopping Sunday?"

"Yes. He's not too bad in stores."

"And," he concluded, "as we established early in this conversation, you are a delightful person with a personality as beautiful as your body."

'Becca was enthusiastic about inviting Mrs. Jenkins and Billy for a meat-loaf dinner. She called Tuesday and issued the invitation. He didn't even try to speak to Sarah then.

He did call Thursday after 'Becca was in bed. "Nothing new to say. Just thought you might need reminding that you are a lovely woman."

"Knut!" she answered. "You're going to give me a head so swelled it won't fit through the door."

"I'll stop when you begin to appreciate your real worth. That looks like it will take a while."

He came home at noon on Friday. He did the laundry and gave the place a thorough cleaning. He set 'Becca to straightening her room before dinner, and he ran the vacuum there after dinner.

So the place to which they welcomed their visitors on Saturday was cleaner than it had been in months. After dinner, he gave Sarah the choice of the kids company watching "Sleeping Beauty" of his washing dishes. At least, he was the lesser of two evils.

"Doesn't that [rinsing the dishes thoroughly before putting them in the dishwasher] reduce the advantage of having a dishwasher?" she asked.

"Hey!" he said. "I don't wear suspenders with my belt. Be grateful for small things." Now that got a laugh. "You have a sexy laugh."

"You'll make me self-conscious."

"Now, that is a problem. Threaten me with your head swelling all you want, it'll never happen. But I don't want you to be self-conscious about the sexy things you do. You might stop doing them."

"Knut!" She looked to see whether the kids had overheard.

"Lost in 'Sleeping Beauty' -- for the umpteenth time for 'Becca. But come here and I'll stop saying things which can be overheard." She came into his arms. They had a wonderful kiss.

For a while he just enjoyed her mouth and her body. Then he drew back far enough to whisper. "Listen. While they can't hear. Billy was real nice about this; but, someday soon, he'll figure out that visiting our place is going to mean that he won't eat sweet and sour shrimp as often."

"That shouldn't be a problem," she said.

"But it might be an opportunity. What would you think of a restaurant meal for the four of us some week night?"

"Knut! You're impossible." Was she going to get all stuffy about expenditures again?

"After the divorce," he explained, "I thought things out. 'Becca needs some things -- talking only about what money can buy, now -- and she enjoys other things. I enjoy some things, and -- I suppose -- you could list things which are necessary for me. Why spend money on the rest? I need a car which works. Well, I enjoy a car which works; you seem to get around without one. But I don't need a car with the latest styling. Why should I buy a new car before this one wears out? Suits from the racks fit me just fine. I've lived in a big house in the 'burbs; thank you very much. My landlord mows the lawn now. One thing I enjoy, we both enjoy, is eating out. Another thing I enjoy, though I didn't know it then, is your company. Why shouldn't I have both?"

"You make yourself sound like a sybarite," she said. "That's not what you look like."

"And you make yourself sound like an English teacher, but you look like a beautiful woman. Well, we have to have a deciding vote, come here." There was a delay while he took her measure. "Look, feel, and taste like a beautiful woman. Three to one."

When the dishwasher stopped, though, he remembered that they were parents, too -- maybe parents first. Sarah'd be mortified if Billy had an accident on his couch. 'Becca wouldn't let Billy live it down either. He went into the living room, waited for the end of a scene, paused the film, and announced: "Bathroom break. Billy goes first, 'cause he's a guest."

'Becca went next. When she showed him her washed hands, he started the film again. Sarah, to his surprise, went third. Well, she'd blame any mess on Billy.

When the film ended, Sarah took Billy home. 'Becca was remarkably pleasant. She'd enjoyed cooking; she'd done none of the washing up; she'd seen a film with company.

The pleasantness, if it didn't last through breakfast, was renewed for the shopping trip. Billy scored for Gryffindor again. "I'm surprised you don't trust Rebecca to put on her own seat belt," Sarah said.

"It's not a matter of trust," he told her. "It's a matter of points. Even though I am an auditor."

He let 'Becca off with the frozen food outside their home, and drove the others to Sarah's back alley. When she gave the delivery boy his usual tip, he hugged her and enjoyed her shape. "More fun without all those coats. Love you." He ran down the stairs before she could feel that she needed to respond. He didn't want a dutiful 'I love you, too.' He wanted, and would maybe never get, her to say it out of the blue.

'Becca enjoyed their expedition to The Chinese Lantern. He enjoyed it, too, of course; but he'd have enjoyed anything in Sarah's company. Most important, the kids were getting along well together. He could sneak with a clear conscience -- his sex life was none of 'Becca's, let alone Billy's, business -- but he suspected meeting him secretly would cause Sarah moral qualms.

Thursday, he called Sarah. "Is your concentrating on Chinese just Billy's addiction to sweet and sour?" he asked. "Or have you tried Vietnamese and found it didn't appeal to you?"

"I haven't really tried Vietnamese. We don't eat out often; I like Chinese and grew up with occasional visits to Chinese restaurants. When you don't eat out much, why risk one of those few times on something you might not like?"

"Well, I don't find the cost all that much of a risk. On the other hand, ruining a date with Sarah would be a disaster. On the third hand -- sound like a monkey, don't I? -- on the third hand, we did eat Chinese on Tuesday. The idea I'm not articulating is how would you like to visit a Vietnamese restaurant on Saturday?"

"Sounds delightful."

"And did you enjoy 'Airplane'?" he asked. He had two more comedies in his queue.

"Never saw it."

"Well, would you like to see it now? I have it for my VCR."

"Sounds delightful," she said again. And that would get her to his apartment alone. He needed to prepare for any eventuality. And the best eventuality would be to Sarah's spending the night. Well, that would mean a nice robe -- not overtly sexy, a comb, and a toothbrush.

He bought those on his Friday lunch hour. He stopped on his way home to get a package of popcorn for the microwave. They were going to watch a movie, after all.

That evening after seeing 'Becca off, he got "Airplane" from the video store -- what if they hadn't had it? -- and opened all the windows. It was a mite chilly, but the place aired out nicely. He continued his preparations Saturday: doing the laundry, emptying the garbage and wastebaskets, putting away or hiding everything in his room, making sure that the VCR worked and that the film really was the one he had intended. He showered in the late afternoon, dressed in clean clothes, and hid the clothes he had taken off in 'Becca's room. His room looked stark with the nightstands bare. He got a box of Kleenex out of the bathroom and hid the Trojan under it. He put two others in the drawers of the nightstands.

Finally, just before going out, he closed the bedroom window, rolled the top sheet until it covered only the bottom end of the bed, turned on one of the lamps, and closed the door.

Sarah was lovely when she came down to meet him. It wouldn't do to suggest skipping the meal to head straight to bed, tempting as that idea was. She enjoyed herself in the Vietnamese restaurant and came back to his apartment to watch the movie.

She probably had memories of watching movies with boyfriends in high school. She certainly didn't object to his cuddling her while she watched. And she laughed! When he heard that sexy laugh again, he almost came in his pants. When she took a bathroom break, he hit the pause. He backed to the beginning of that scene while she was gone and suggested the popcorn when she got back. They nibbled while they watched.

When the film was over, however, he moved the bowl away and concentrated on another appetite. Her mouth tasted delicious as always, if saltier than usual. When he had her blouse unbuttoned, he saw that she'd worn the front-closure bra again.

He covered her breasts with kisses if not as many as they deserved. She lay back, and he caressed her center again. He wanted more access, however. She helped him when he removed her skirt and undergarments. Then he had a naked Sarah on his couch. He explored her center with his fingers as he explored her mouth with his tongue. When she was writhing, he returned to her lovely, responsive, nipple. She came for him again! He could feel and see her body undulate as he heard her groan!

"Sweet Sarah," he said. "Beautiful Sarah, gentle Sarah." He went back to kissing her and cherishing her. When she looked recovered, he asked, "Can you walk now?"

She could, and she followed him into the bedroom. After a brief kiss, she lay down. He dropped his clothes before joining her on the bed. He lay on his left side with all her beauty accessible to his right hand. He caressed her before leaning over to kiss her far breast. All that beauty was accessible to his mouth, as well. Well, not quite accessible. When he kissed a path towards her center, she pulled his head back up her torso. He obeyed, kissing another path that ended at her near breast. However, when his hand approached the point she didn't want his mouth, she spread her legs. Her lips were spread, as well. And oh, so juicy.

When he sucked the nipple and caressed her center, she responded. First, the response was physical: an increase in her rate of breathing, a slight further spreading of her legs, an undulation of her torso, a tension of the sweet belly under his arm. Then she spoke! "Knut."

"I thought you'd never ask," he replied as he moved into position. He grabbed the Trojan while he knelt between her legs. The view from there was magnificent, but he had to concentrate on himself. He opened the package and rolled on the Trojan. He kissed her once more as he got into position and opened her with his fingers. "Love you." Then he was entering her, entering sweet Sarah! She was warm, and smooth, and tight around his cock. Fully enclosed, hugged more intimately than her arms could manage, he kissed her hairline. "Darling Sarah. I've dreamed about this so long, and now it's real."

Resting on his right elbow, holding the softness of her breast in his right hand and one ass cheek in his left, he moved within that soft, smooth, warmth.

She not only accepted him, she responded. Her arms enclosed him and her hands petted his back. She pressed up against him as he pressed into her, giving him one more millimeter into that sweetness. He fought to keep his motions slow, but her responses aroused him too much. Just before he lost control, though, he felt her clasp around him rhythmically and more tightly. Her groan took him beyond any hope of control.

"Oh, Sarah," he said. "Oh, darling. Oh, yes!" And he poured into her.

She still continued after he was empty. "Darling," he said when he felt her relax under him and around him. He managed to move off her before he collapsed. He removed the Trojan the rest of the way, and tossed it into the wastebasket. He got the sheet from where he had rolled it and covered them. He hugged her. "Darling, Sarah," he still could hardly believe it. "Darling." He turned off the lamp before hugging her again.

He woke with the that naked beauty still in his arms. He had an erection, and -- considering the situation -- who could blame him? He wore his robe into the bathroom but remembered to leave the door unlocked. Showered, he returned to find her still asleep. She was lying on her side with the sheet concealing the kissable skin but hinting at the marvelous shape. The shape of Woman, with the corner of her hip raised higher than anything else. He couldn't resist that.

While he was kissing her there, though, she woke. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Kissing you. Did you know that you have the loveliest greater trochanters in the world. Well, I haven't seen your greater trochanters, but your shape reveals it."

"I have to get up."

"Want a robe?" And she might want a little privacy, as well. They'd spent a night together, but she didn't need to be reminded that she'd been swept away. He turned his back as she got up. She had the robe around her, if not her arms in the sleeves, when she went into the bathroom. He heard the toilet, but not the shower.

She came out with her hair combed. "Did you buy this robe for me?"

"Yep. What will you have for breakfast? I have eggs, or frozen French toast. I told you; I'm a survival cook. Fry a mean egg, though."

"I usually eat corn flakes."

"Got them, too. You sure you don't want eggs?" Seemed a Spartan breakfast for what he felt was a luxurious morning.

"Sure." Then, after some spoonfuls, she asked, "Who eats corn flakes at your house?"

"I'll finish up the box. If I give it to you, it would start a fight." And, if she denied that, he'd give it to her.

"You bought the corn flakes for me -- and the robe -- and the comb and toothbrush."

"I see you shop, remember? It's easy enough to guess who eats the Cocoa Puffs.... And I bought the condoms in anticipation of your visit. Whatever you think of me, I don't live the sort of life which requires keeping them always on hand." Which she might like to hear. He actually had bought them in anticipation of his visit to her apartment, but she might not like to hear that.

But that led her off on a tangent. "You didn't need to, you know. Contraception is the woman's responsibility. Whatever you think of me, I am a responsible person."

"Well,... First of all, contraception is any adult's responsibility. Second, I don't think last night was time to discuss it. Third, I am an auditor, you know."

"You keep saying that. What do you mean?"

"It keeps being true. I'm an auditor," he pointed out. "You're an English teacher. You notice grammar, even when you're not in the classroom. Now, me.... Look, say the Jones Corporation reports a big growth in profit. I certify those reports. You buy some of their stock, but it turns out that this growth was fictitious. You don't say to the treasurer and the rest of the board: 'Well, it's not your fault; Gustafson said that your profit was real based on generally accepted accounting procedures.' You hold them accountable. On the other hand, you hold me accountable, too. (Really, you'd hold Reuben and Metzger accountable; they would hold me accountable.)"

This was going on much too long. But in for a penny in for a pound. He continued, "I take a lot of responsibility, but I don't relieve other people of any responsibility. Not the corporate treasurer, not the board, not even my bosses. So, when I use a little contraception or feed Billy, or check his seat belt, I'm not saying that you aren't a responsible mother. I'm saying that I have a responsibility, too. Well, those are different things."

"You feel strongly about that, don't you?"

"Really? Yes. I see people saying all the time: 'It's his responsibility, so it's not mine.' Well, my responsibility at work never relieves anyone else of responsibility. And I am responsible. Not in that way; I'm not 'a responsible man.' I'm responsible that the books I audit are kept according to generally accepted accounting procedures. Or, in the worst case, that I report that they are not."

"Do you ever report that?"

"Not really. When they bring books in to me, everybody knows that the report will come out with my approval. What has happened, and you'll excuse me if I don't name names, is that the report that comes out with my approval shows some different figures than the books they brought in. Even that is rare; it's like your students turning in homework to you. They need the practice, but would they do it if you told them to practice and not turn it in?"

"You're a strange man," she said. "What's this 'great' thing?"

She'd lost him. "Huh?"

"This morning when I woke up, you said something about a lovely, great, something."

Now that was a better subject for this morning. "Greater trochanter. Get up, will you?" She got up and he had an excuse to hold her. Well, to hold one of the sweetest parts of her; he put his hands on the corners of her hips. "The points of your hips, where you're widest. It's a piece of your thigh bone, men have it, too; but ours isn't thrust out so far. Anyway, yours are especially lovely. Going to let me see them again this morning? Kiss them again? We don't need the sheet."

He kissed her like that, and then while hugging her against him. "I really need to get dressed and go home," she broke it up.

No morning love. Probably just as well; he felt desire, but couldn't absolutely guarantee performance so soon after an explosive orgasm. "I knew it! I let her have her way with me, and now she doesn't respect me in the morning."

"Silly. Who said I ever respected you? But I do have things to do."

Well, what he'd had was wonderful, no sense in complaining that it wasn't everything. "Okay. Want a shower first?"

"I don't think so. My clothes are probably already dirty."

"All right." But there was more they could do together. She had shopped on Billy's weekends away. "Call when you want to go to the grocery store."

And she nodded. He'd buy a few things, too -- staples which wouldn't make 'Becca suspicious.