My House Or Yours?

In the cab, Jo was squashed between Chad and the window. He had arranged it so that no other man was close to her. He’d been deft about it. He’d always done that. He could shift her quite discreetly from one side of him to the other depending on who was crowding her.

He was possessive.

Not anymore. They’d been divorced for almost four years. He’d allowed her to leave quite thoughtfully. He’d said, You’ll be back when you’ve had a taste of being on your own for a while. You like being married!

He’d been wrong.

It was probably the only time, in all the while she’d known Chad, that he’d ever been wrong. Well, any person was entitled to one mistake in his life.

She had been his.

Sitting forward in the cab on the edge of the back seat, with Chad pressed against her hip and the noisy shadows of other people packed in the small enclosure, Jo’s body was afire with ants of desire. How foolish of her sex to react again and so violently to Chad.

She was going to be circumspect and aloof. She was going to show Chad that she did not miss him. That she did not want to be married to him again. And that she was free.

So…he’d been good in bed. She remembered that. Her body remembered it, too. She acknowledged it. She was not really susceptible to Chad. She was not!

There were undoubtedly other men who could do sex as well as Chad Wilkins. All men had the same equipment, and it was traditionally done in various ways that were pleasurable to women. And—

He’d been really, really good at it.

But that was all. And it was only sex, after all. He had not been a companion or a friend or a helpmate.

He’d been good in bed…on the floor…against the wall. She could admit that, but otherwise he’d been gone.

There were all those meetings with students in his department, meetings with lagging students, meetings with those who were exceptional and those engrossed in projects. There were faculty meetings, the faculty senate and other occasions that were formal, which had included the wives.

Chad had never been around when she had needed him. Of course, her problem was that it had only been his companionship she had wanted. It hadn’t been as important to him. Just being together and talking, or not, hadn’t been urgent. It could be postponed. Forever.

They’d reached the hotel. She got out first, and it was familiar to wait as he settled up the fares and tips. With the tips given, the cabdriver probably quit for the day.

The January weather in Fort Worth was glorious. It was warm. The TEXAS sun was assuringly benevolent, showing the non-TEXANs that the world could indeed be perfect. The ski equipped, reluctant guests were beginning to perk up and look around for entertainment. They would have a stimulating time and probably end up swimming outside.

Among the stranded strangers, there was the couple who was meeting for the first time since their divorce. So. It was no big deal. They were as ships which pass on the ocean. They would pass with a courteous greeting and some pleasant conversation and…separate…to go their ways?

He probably had papers to read. He always had a student who needed extra help. Jo hadn’t needed anything. She’d never had any problems. So she’d needed no special attention from her husband.

Or so he had thought.

His meals had been on time…or held…or stored away. The house was always clean. His shirts were pristine and the buttons were all sewn on. His clothes came back from the cleaner on time.

She’d slept in his bed and had been available. Hungrily available. She’d sought him. His laugh had been so intimate. So pleased. His sounds were so basic.

He had been a superior lover. It was quite probable that he still was.

Jo wondered who…who all had been sharing his bed. He wouldn’t even have to ask. He’d probably have to post a list for day and time. It was a wonder he looked so well, so cared for. Who was taking care of him now? He looked so rested.

Of course, he’d been away from campus. He’d been to a seminar to read a paper. No, not a newspaper. One of his. On…what all. Some subject that was so dim and distant that few others would find it interesting. He was such a niggler. He was the type whose concentration was intense. He sorted and sought and paced as he thought.

In her ear, he said, “Let me carry that.”

She lifted her brows in question.

“Your bag.”

She replied in a dismissing manner, “It’s quite comfortable, and I’m used to it. No problem.”

He was serious and his lower lip was being obvious. “It seems crass for you to have to carry your things.”

She slid her eyes over to give him a narrow, sophisticated understanding of his wiles, but he was frowning at her bag. “When did you get so thin? Are you okay?”

“I’ve lost five pounds since our divorce almost four years ago.”

He flinched. “Don’t say the word. I’ve rejected it.”

Jo lowered her eyelids and looked at him with some snide understanding. “Just recently?”

He replied like a stubborn man who hasn’t adjusted to reality. “No. Ever since you walked out on me.”

They’d stopped at the hotel’s desk to register. He said to her, “Wait here.”

She told him firmly, “I need to pay half.”

“No.”

She replied in an adult manner, “I have a credit card for my expense account.”

“No.”

Come to think of it, he’d always been that way. His way. That’s what was wrong with him, everything had to be his way. Even when he was being darling, he wanted it his way.

Jo said with her being-patient-with-a-client voice, “I pay half or I walk.”

“You’ve become a prostitute?”

She gasped in indignation.

“You were always terrific and so body-hungry that it doesn’t surprise me at all. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering who you were savoring.”

Through her teeth she spaced the three words. “I have not!”

He frowned at her and appeared censoring. “Then I feel sorry for the men around you. What do they do?”

Somewhat prissily, she retorted, “Not all men are like you, thank goodness.”

He put on an instant lecturing facade. “Goodness has nothing—”

“Be quiet!”