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where he’s shot his sticky cum all over his thighs and hand … and there’s no one to lick it clean.
           “Say you love me, Robby.”
           “Oh, I do,” he pants, breathless.
           “And she’s there, isn’t she?”
           “In bed.”
           “My bed.”
           “Oh, Lynnie.”
           “It’s okay, Robby, I’m having my fun on the side too.”
           “You are?”
           “And right now I’m going to sleep.   Sweet dreams.”
           I hang the phone in the cradle and turn in my mind to the picture of the stranger reaching out to me and taking me away again.   I cum, panting as hard as Robby was panting, with as much force and even more desire.   I hope this will let me sleep.   Papers, or no papers to grade, I go to bed.
     
           Just as the lights go out in the room and I’m feasting in the darkness and the hint of my dreams, the phone rings.   Ah, I moan to myself, Robby’s going to spoil it.   I’m sure he’s wide-awake enough to remember what I said.
           “Hello,” I answer.
           “Ellen,” the stranger’s voice is plainly unmistakable.
           Instantly, I’m wide-awake.   Shuddering nervously, I sit up in bed.   I’m looking toward the window, sure he’s staring into the bedroom and my nakedness from somewhere outside.
           “You have my number?”
           “And more than that.   I’ve been watching you, Ellen Laurey.   I think it’s time we met again.”
           “Where?” I’m not sure whether to be anxious or relieved.
           “I’ll let you know.”
           “And that’s all?”   I’m desperate for more.  
           “Sweet dreams,” he says.   The phone clicks in my ear as surely as it must have clicked rudely in Robby’s a half hour ago.   Instant karma …

Chapter Five
     
           For two weeks I wait.   Assuming that the stranger’s midnight call is a ploy to unsettle me, I attempt to live my life calmly until he resurfaces again.   But I’m looking constantly—around every corner, down each street I walk, in all the shady haunts where a madman could hide until he pounces on his unsuspecting prey—waiting to find him ready to abscond with me into his world.  
           I give little thought to Robby, even though we fuck like sex-hungry adolescents when we’re together.   Unlike the weekend filled with love, the next with him is more subdued, silently rendered—poised and polite, almost sunny by day.   But we say little when we’re in bed.   I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk about Chelsea and the revelation I made over the phone.   He held his breath all weekend wondering if I’d mention the tart he screws during the week and allows access to my house.   I’m happy to let him linger in his fear, while I gratefully use his body in the dark, thinking about the stranger while my husband’s dick rents my pussy.   His lips are still good down below.   Not even his fear takes away his lust and his ability to comb my small insides with his tongue.   His hands under my ass grasp raw flesh he’s gently warmed with spanks from his firm hand. My snatch is like fresh fruit to his taste, like a juicy apricot that spurts as he moves on delicate skin.   He’s not lost his genius for sucking my clitoris, or taking it in his teeth and shaking his head like a dog would shake a bone.   All the while he has me with my groin clutched to his face I forget Chelsea, content to give him more memories of me in this bed than he has of her.   But I’m not forgetting my longhaired stranger.   Eyes open, eyes closed, it’s all the same.   He’s in my head, sometimes so close I think he’s sitting beside the bed coolly watching Robby and I with a keen eye.   When I lurch with an orgasmic spasm, going frenzied on Robby’s tongue, it’s only that face of strength and wisdom in my mind’s