I rolled her over on her back. I tried to kiss her, but she turned her head away. "No, no kissing," she said. I shrugged. If she didn't want to kiss, that was fine with me.

I'd met her at the hotel bar, where she had just started working. Her name was Liz and she screwed up my order three times. "How hard is it to remember a double scotch?" I teased. I flirted with her all night. She had a high, infectious laugh that rang in the room like the sound of bells. When the bar closed for the evening, she followed me back to my room.

At first she sat on the bed and talked about her father while I poured myself a drink. Given the difference in our ages, it didn't take a genius to imagine she saw me as some sort of father figure. But her neuroses were none of my concern. I gulped down my scotch and tried not to think about it too much.

I got her blouse off. Her bra was white and mostly transparent. Her nipples were as big around as silver dollars, and they formed dark circles under the lacy fabric. I tried to reach around her back and unhook her bra.

But she suddenly twisted away and bounced out of reach. She sat up on the edge of the bed with her back towards me.

I pulled myself next to her. "What's wrong?" I said.

She sighed deeply. "I should go."

I ran my finger down the ridge of her backbone. "No, don't go. Stay here with me tonight." I prodded the clasp of her bra with my fingertip. It had a double hook - it would be a simple task to unfasten it.

"I can't." She reached down and picked her blouse up off the floor.

"Why not?"

"It's my husband. He is supposed to call."

I sat up beside her. She turned her head slightly away and wouldn't look at me. I bumped my bare shoulder against hers. My erection tented my slacks.

"Why don't you call him tomorrow?" I took her hand and put it in my lap. Her fingers tightened around my prick, and she finally looked at me and smiled slyly.

But her smile quickly faded. "Didn't I tell you?" she said. "My little brother died last month. He committed suicide. He was only twenty-three."

She buried her face in my neck, and I knew why she had laughed so much earlier in the evening. Tears trickled down my chest, and I stroked her long hair.

The next night I went back to the hotel bar, and Liz was there again. Her smile beamed as soon as I walked in the door.

"Hello!" she said. "I was hoping you'd come back!"

She had the night off, but she had come to the bar anyway hoping to find me again. We stayed for a couple hours, and I bought her four drinks. She was happy and smiling and laughed at all my jokes. As the evening wore on, she kept stroking my forearms as if she couldn't keep her hands off me.

She was a little tipsy. I decided I'd try again to get her, and again she agreed to come back to my room. I bought a bottle from the bartender and we skittered up the elevator like a couple of guilty school kids.

She still wouldn't kiss me, but this time I got her bra off. Her breasts were large and soft, and those big nipples squeezed up tightly when I sucked them.

I tried to pull her panties down, but she grabbed my wrist. "No," she said.

"No?" I said, a whine creeping into my voice.

"No. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I felt playful and didn't want it to end. "I'll tell you what. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

She scrunched up her face. "Ah. So that's how it's supposed to work?"

But I wouldn't be so easily deterred. I yanked my shorts down and dropped them over the side of the bed. I took her hands and wrapped them around my straining cock. "Feel what you do to me?"

"Hmm," she smiled, and her hands moved almost imperceptibly on my penis. "But I'm still not going to fuck you."

"No?" I was repeating myself, and I was annoyed at myself for not being able to think of anything new to say.

"No."

I couldn't figure her out. I got up off the bed, my hard-on waving stiffly. She rolled over on her belly; her tan panties stretched tight over her ass. She turned her head towards the window. She had a dreamy, far-away look in her eye.

I found a tumbler and filled it with scotch. I took a deep swallow and nearly gagged, but I forced it down. And then I took another swallow. I refilled my glass.

For just an instant, I thought about what my wife might be doing at home. Probably doing mundane household chores, like ironing clothes. While watching TV. Not that it made much difference what my wife was doing.

"Why don't you come over to my place tomorrow?" Liz said into the pillow. I barely heard what she said.

"What about your husband?"

She rolled over on her back, and she looked at me through her lashes. Her large breasts formed two beautifully soft pillows on her chest. "He left a message on the machine yesterday. They are keeping him until late next week." She paused and looked at me expectantly. She was a very pretty girl. "So what do you say?"

I watched with an increasing desire as her fingers tickled absently over her tummy. I could feel some of the old fire beginning to flare in my veins.

If I were smart, I would forget her and move on. But she had touched something in me that reminded me of my younger years. It reminded me of when I was first married, when I was sure I could still triumph over the world.

"Sure," I said, "I'd be glad to."

I arrived at Liz's house at five o'clock sharp. She stood on her porch and waved as I pulled into the driveway.

She gave me a quick tour through the house. It wasn't much of a house, really. And compared to my wife, Liz wasn't much of a housekeeper. "This is the kitchen," she said. Loose photographs littered the counter like unraked leaves. The pictures were all of various people, friends and family, I presumed. I looked through a few. Liz herself was only in one, a group shot of four people standing together in the bright sun. She was on the right, brightly radiant. The old couple, her mother and father, stood closely together in the middle. And the teenage boy, who stood slightly away from the other three, his hands thrust in his pockets.

"That's Eddie," she pointed, "and those are my mom and dad."

It was hard to relate this family to this woman. I looked at her mother's eyes, but they were cast in shadows and didn't reveal a thing. And Eddie's somber face was a complete contrast to Liz's ebullience. I had to look closely to see any familial resemblance at all - perhaps a similarity in the slope of the nose, or maybe the chin.

She showed me a few other nondescript rooms and then led me down a narrow hallway. "And this," she said as she threw open a door with a flourish, "is the bedroom."

The bed was unmade and the room smelled faintly of a pine disinfectant. She sat on the bed and faced me and threw her arms apart. "Are you coming?" she said, smiling widely.

We rolled together on the bed. This time she let me kiss her, and her hands were all over me. Our shoes thumped to the floor, and we quickly whipped off our shirts. Her breasts felt exhilarating against my bare chest.

I pulled my underwear down and my erection sprung free. She stared intently at my penis and licked her lips. And then she looked me in the eye. "Do you have a condom?" she asked.

"No," I said. She let me pull her panties down, and they got caught up around her knees.

"You don't?"

"I came here straight from the convention. I haven't had time."

"You need to have a condom," she said.

I was deeply disappointed, but I tried to play the responsible adult. "That's smart of you," I said. "You can't be too careful these days."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that. I think I can trust you. It's just I can't get pregnant."

"You're not on the pill?"

"No."

"I don't know," I smiled, and I twirled my fingers around in her soft, dark pubic hair. "That wouldn't be so bad."

"I can't justify bringing a baby into this world," she said, but her voice was off in a different place. Her eyes had that distant look again.

"Maybe I could borrow one of your husband's."

"No. Charlie won't wear them."

I fingered her navel. "So what does he do? Does he put it here?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes. But mostly he doesn't come. He can fuck for hours without coming. But maybe his sperm count is a little low." She sighed. "Or maybe it's just me."

"If it's you, then maybe it'll be safe."

"No."

I raked my fingers through her curly hairs. "So I'll pick up something tomorrow, OK?"

She smiled. "All right."

Her eyes dropped and got a misty look in them. She seemed to be drifting away again. I tried to reel her back in.

"But in the meantime, what about me?" I said.

She blinked rapidly and looked at me. "You? What about you?"

"About this?" I said, pointing to my erection. "How about you finish me with your hand?"

"No."

"Or a blowjob."

"No."

"Why not?"

"That would make me too excited. I wouldn't be able to control myself."

I laughed. I had never run across a woman who resisted like this! "So then what? Do you just want to get drunk?"

She frowned. "Don't be mean. Who knows? Maybe if you were more persuasive..."

"I think I'll just go back to the hotel."

"Charlie can get me to do what he wants. Charlie knows how to push all my buttons."

"Too bad Charlie is a thousand miles away."

She got very quiet and I immediately felt bad. I sat down beside her on the bed and caressed the back of her neck. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just a sour old man."

"No you're not. You can be sweet when you want to be."

"I really should get back, though. If I'm going to get drunk, I should do it where I don't need to drive."

"OK."

She had a disappointed look on her face that gave me one last pause for optimism. "Unless it's OK for me to stay here tonight," I said.

She spoke almost in a whisper. "I don't think that's a good idea."

I nodded. I expected as much. "But we'll do something tomorrow, OK?"

She smiled. "I'll call you," she said.

I picked up some condoms and a couple bottles of scotch on the way back to the hotel. In my room, I poured myself a big, thumping drink, but fatigue overwhelmed me before I got a chance to finish it. I fell into a deep, child-like sleep.

The next day I skipped out on the convention and met her at the city park. I knew my boss would notice my absence and I would catch hell, but it had been a long time since I cared what my boss thought about me. I'd been considering quitting for years, but I never went through with it because the thought of looking for a new job made the skin at the back of my neck prickle uncomfortably. That, and I couldn't bear the thought of telling my wife I was unemployed.

The day was warm and sunny, and the air smelled of freshly cut grass. She brought a plastic grocery bag full of food, and we found a quiet corner to sit and eat.

She was playful and attentive. After we ate, we walked around the park, hand in hand. I whistled some old romantic tunes, and she laughed and hugged me. Whenever we walked by a tree, we would sneak behind to kiss.

She had to leave after two hours. "Charlie said he would call this afternoon," she said. "But this was fun. Why don't you come over for dinner tonight? Daniel is going to be there too. He's an old friend. You can meet him."

I wasn't happy that we'd have company, but I really wanted to see her again. I told her I'd go back to the hotel and change, and I'd be at her place at six.

When I arrived, Daniel was already there. He was young, like she was, and had a serious look that made me take an instant dislike towards him. He had long blond hair, steel-rimmed glasses, and carried a book bag over his shoulder. He sat on the living room floor and said things like, "Sartre was a fool."

They had a pizza delivered. I drank scotch and they drank the cheap beer Daniel brought with him. They played their music so loud we could barely hear ourselves talk. But Liz was having a good time. I sat in the big easy chair and tried to smile as I sulked.

Daniel didn't leave until after one o'clock. "Thank God he's gone," I said when she closed the door behind him. "That was boring."

"Be nice," she said. "Daniel is a good friend. And you know, I think he likes you."

"Daniel needs to find his own girl." I hugged her and kissed her and she leaned her head back and gave me a good, long look. She seemed to be sizing me up, so I gave her as good a smile as I could muster after all the alcohol I'd consumed. Lucky for me, my drunk smile can be endearing. "Why don't we just go to bed?" she said.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

I poured myself a drink while she hurriedly slipped out of her jeans and T-shirt. I put my drink down, stripped, and followed her under the covers.

She lay her head on my chest and I picked up my drink again. I sipped carefully while she played with the hair on my chest. For the first time I noticed she bit her fingernails. I thought I should probably get rid of the booze, but I took another sip.