Paganini's Tale, Chapter 7

Alice was watching television, sitting in her small, fully
cushioned chair, when the phone rang. Larry answered it, and so
Alice turned back to the show. Several moments later Larry
appeared in the doorway to the tv room.
   "It's a survey. Wants to talk with the lady of the house."
   Alice laughed, heh-heh, at the non-humor. But things were so
tense with Larry recently, worse than normal. She wondered if
it were all in her head, that she was creating the tension, the
vague insecurities.
   Larry sometimes seemed so oblivious; perhaps he wasn't even
picking up her stiffness. So often he seemed almost aloof, as
if he was in a world of his own.
   She picked up the receiver: "Hello?"
   The voice still resonated, still sent chills into her sinews
and joints. "Your husband was very helpful. Now comes the real
message. Tomorrow as soon as you get off work you are to walk
to the Gold Coin Hotel, down on 58th Ave. The desk man has your
key. You will go to the room and strip naked. Lay across the
brass frame at the foot, hips on the metal. Spread your arms
out. Feel the cold metal on your stomach, think about what you
will experience.
   Do not turn on the light. Keep the shades drawn.  Face away
from the door. I will enter and ask you some questions. You
will not be free to look at me, but will be free to leave at
any time. If you fail to arrive..."
   Alice nodded mutely to the phone. She knew what that meant.

She caught Larry watching her out of the corner of her eye, and
nodded again. "That's right, Ivory Liquid. And Cascade in the
dishwasher. Yes." She paused, for effect. "That's right. Good-
bye." As she hung up the receiver, Larry strolled through the
living room as if on his way to the kitchen.
   "Kitchen products, eh? He asked me about films I'd seen
recently."
   Alice smiled (could he feel her tension?) and laughed (did
the laugh sound forced?), then said "Sounds like he's one
efficient phone surveyor." Then she laughed again. "Remember
when we were doing phone work for that candidate? What was his
name?"
   "Paxton," Larry said, and grinned. "I remember the lunches
better than the work."
   She smiled back. They had found a secluded nook between
buildings where they would often spend twenty minutes of their
half-hour lunch screwing themselves  silly. "Those were some
times, weren't they?"
   Larry sat beside her. "That they were." There was a
wistfulness in his words; a melancholy. Those days, they had
been passionate. What had changed? Their own sex had become so
mechanical, as if they'd done it all before, and were now
practicing their form. The spirit had been lost.
   They both knew it, but didn't speak it. They sat in silence
for a time, holding hands. Alice thought about what the man had
said on the phone. She really had little to remember, and she
was glad she didn't have to write something down.
   It was all so exciting, this illicit affair, though she knew
that if it continued much longer she was bound to get caught.
Imagine him, calling her at home! It meant to her that this
affair was destined to be short-lived, and that was all right.
What it was for her now was an exciting interlude so totally
removed from her normal life that it took on rules of its own.
   Larry sat with Alice's hand in his and wished he knew what
had sapped the strength from their mutual loins. When they
screwed it lasted only as long as it took for each of them to
get off. Nothing lingered, nothing lasted. Nothing like the
black-haired woman wringing him out like a washrag from the
tub.
   He remembered how she stroked him this afternoon, slowly, in
gentle increments, designed not to make him come fast, but
gradually warm to the heat of lust. He had been very
satisfied. He still wasn't sure about the dominance stuff,
but was willing to go along with it for awhile longer, since it
was certainly unusual.