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woman is attracted to just one person in a lifetime. If a man, married for years, wants to take a single girl to dinner, it can hardly break up his marriage. If the dinner is paid for by his expense account and he’s a thousand miles from home, so much the better. He may arrive home a happier, more contented man.
    Girls who live in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles seem to have greatest access to expense-account men because there is more dashing back and forth of executives between these places. However, large companies have branch offices in many other cities, so any number can play. These men are collectors’ items. They give you a chance to put on your prettiest dress, your prettiest smile and to polish your charm, and they leave town before you can get serious about each other.
    Case Histories
    Jennifer McCone, a pretty girl of twenty-nine, works for a public relations firm. Her company president, fifty-two, met Jennifer at an office party he gave for all West Coast employees. (He lives in New York.) After the party he asked Jennifer to dinner at Scandia, one of Los Angeles’ most glamorous restaurants. Many Aquavits and Danish beers later they were getting Jennifer’s coat from the check room and noticed a gift shop. He suggested they look around. While Jennifer was browsing among the only gifts that cost $1.98 (back scratchers) her escort spotted a handsome chafing dish. He said, “I’d like to take one of these back to New York. Why don’t we get one for you too?” Jennifer accepted graciously. A nice gesture from a man who could afford it.
    The next time he came to the Coast, this charmer asked Jennifer if she would like to make him Crepes Strawberry like they’d had at Scandia. Jennifer said she’d love to. Smooth operator? Certainly. An archfiend? Certainly not! Any girl in the company would have jumped at the chance to make him Crepes Strawberry and Jennifer was flattered he picked her. After the crepes and whatever she fixed to go with them, they went to the Crescendo to hear Shelley Berman. Beddy-bye in between? Who knows? I don’t. Who cares? Not me.
    Here’s another case history. The account supervisor on an advertising account that bills millions comes to the West Coast to make television commercials twice a year. His longtime companion during these junkets is a chic forty-one-year-old buyer at a department store. He loves the good life and is popular. During his visits (usually about two weeks) a movie star couldn’t be seated at the front booth of Romanoff’s any oftener or go to more glittering parties than our heroine. Are they having an affair? Probably. Would the lady like to slit her throat? Doubtful. She looks twenty-three while he’s here.
    I have found the most trying quality of some married men is their fetish about secrecy. They don’t want you to tell a daisy, your diary or anybody you know that you know them. If the public relations man thought Jennifer had talked about the chafing dish he would have taken cyanide (after first having Jennifer fired). There isn’t much you can do about this obsession except pretend not to tell anyone.
    For example, an insurance executive, infatuated with an accountant in his office, casually takes the elevator from the twelfth to the main floor at the time of her coffee break. Watches synchronized, she uses the stairway from the twelfth floor to the eleventh, then takes the elevator to the main where they meet. (We hope he doesn’t make her climb all twelve flights on the return trip to further avoid suspicion.) Nobody has ever seen them arrive or depart à deux , so he thinks nobody knows they meet. Just everybody knows, that’s who. And they would respect him more if he weren’t such a sneak.
    In addition to dining with visitors, these are some of the things I think you can do successfully with a married man and never hurt you, him or his loved ones.
    A. Meet for coffee.
    B. Meet for lunch.
    C. Have dinner with him (with others along) on the