Chapter 9

Ben paced in the kitchen. He stopped to regard the time on the panel of the microwave -- it read seven forty-five. He peeked into the oven where he had placed the dinner he had prepared to keep it warm. Again he paced. He figured it made no sense to call Molly again -- he had been calling at ten-minute intervals since six.

The sound of the elevator doors came through from the corridor, followed by footfalls. They stopped outside the apartment door and he heard her key in the deadbolt. The door swung open and Molly breezed in. She bolted it behind her, slipped off her overcoat and hung it in the closet.

"Molly -- are you all right?" Ben asked.

"Yes ... of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're so late. I was worried. I tried calling your cell."

"Oh -- the battery's dead. I'll put it on the charger overnight."

"I also tried calling Wayland and Linnekin's main number. All I got was a recording."

"The reception line doesn't ring back where I work. Ben, please -- it's been a long day and I want to get out of these pantyhose."

Ben followed her into the bedroom. Molly began stripping out of her work clothes. She stood in her bra and briefs sorting through one of her dresser drawers.

"I hope you're getting paid for all that overtime," he said.

"I'm salaried, Ben -- I don't collect overtime. And -- I need to go in tomorrow, too."

"Tomorrow is Saturday."

"I'm aware of that," she replied. "Duty calls."

"If you're not getting overtime, then I hope you're getting some comp-time leave."

"Yes, Ben -- I'll make sure I get that." Molly pulled a knee-length, cotton sleep shirt from her drawer. She turned her back to Ben, reached around and unhooked her bra and slipped it off. Then she pulled the nightgown over her head and reached under the hem to remove her briefs. Together they headed to the kitchen. "I am starving, Ben. I haven't had anything to eat today -- just your coffee this morning."

"Molly -- haven't you gone back to that sandwich shop ... where Brittney works?"

She shook her head. "No time today."

He pulled a plate from the oven and placed it before her. "I put yours in to warm -- I've eaten already. I don't have any idea how good it is after all this time. Would you like some beer or wine to go with it?"

"No thanks. I just want to have my dinner and go to bed."

Ben sat across from her and watched her eat. "How is it?" he asked.

"A little dried out but still good."

"Molly -- if you know you're going to be late like this ... Please call. It'll keep me from worrying. I can do a better job of back-timing dinner if I know when you'll be home."

She reached across the table and took his hand. "Yes, Ben. I'm sorry -- I'll remember to do that from now on." She finished her dinner.

"Would you like some dessert?" he asked. "I think we have some of that pecan pie left over."

She pressed her hand to her abdomen. "No thanks -- not tonight. I'm satisfied. Now I'm going to get ready for bed."

"I'll join you," he replied. "My sleep is still disrupted from the travel."

Ben stripped to his briefs and slid into bed. Molly joined him from the other side. He switched off the light. "Care to cuddle?" he asked.

Molly slithered toward him and lay under his arm. Ben held her and began stroking the side of her breast. He worked his finger lower and lower in an attempt to connect with her nipple.

"Please, Ben," she said. "I can't tonight. I'm just too tired."

"I suppose I am, too." He ran his hand along her biceps. "And, you work tomorrow ... I hope not so late."

"I have to stay 'til the job is done."

"What sort of things are you doing?" he asked.

"It's a big case," she said with a yawn. "A lot of material has to be collected, sorted, collated, organized..."

"I see..." He continued to stroke her arm.

"Ben ... this morning ... you said you'd be okay with it if Brittney and I had been doing something. What exactly did you mean?"

"It was a fairly straight-forward, declarative sentence. I'm not sure it would bother me if you and Brittney had been doing something."

"Why not?" she asked. "Wouldn't that have violated our expressed or implied commitment to each other?"

"Well," he replied. "I think what two consenting adults do when they're alone together is no one else's business."

"Even if that means cheating?"

"So long as it's discreet and so long as no one gets hurt."

"That's quite a continental attitude," she remarked. "So long as no one finds out about it. That way no one gets hurt."

"I suppose, but I don't know how you and Brittney spending time together hurts me. I don't know what difference it would make to me whether you spent an evening with her playing Canasta versus having sex."

"Is that really how you feel, Ben?"

"It is, Molly. I think it's cruel of one person to keep another from the places and things and people she loves. I also am forced to face the reality of the situation."

"What's that?" she asked.

"That you are a lesbian. I know that you and I have a unique and special relationship. I also know that you have needs -- needs I can't satisfy."

"Are you giving me blanket permission to go out and have affairs with girls?" she asked.

"Let's just say I'd be tolerant of it."

"I see ... It's funny -- I never expected to hear something like that from you." She ran her hand along his chest. "Does that mean if I told you I was spending the night with Brittney you'd tell me to go enjoy myself?"

"Is that something you want to do?"

"I ... I'm speaking hypothetically."

"If you assured me such an evening was essential to your happiness, then it would be wrong of me to prevent it. Molly -- above everything, I want you to be happy."

"It means a lot to hear you say that. I don't know, Ben. I'm not sure I'd be so sanguine about the notion of you needing a night with another woman."

"Molly -- I have no needs that you can't fulfill."

"Nothing? You don't find me deficient in any way? Any way at all?"

"Not in the least," he replied. "You fit my definition of the perfect partner. You're bright, pretty, sexy ... I realize I'm not a particularly adventuresome lover -- but you've been amenable to everything I've suggested."

"There is only one thing I will not do, Ben. I know you know what it is."

He nodded. "Yeah. It's okay. It's not something I want, anyway. Do you know the old song, 'I Only Have Eyes for You?'"

"Yeah -- I know it," she replied.

"It describes my feelings toward you completely."

"Do you know what I think?" she asked.

"What's that?"

"I think I'm pretty lucky to have you." She kissed his chest. "Tell me, Ben -- would it be different if I were straight and Brittney were another guy?"

"You do like to turn these situations around, don't you?" he asked.

"And you like answering my questions with another question."

"Do I do that?"

"Yes, you do. Now, answer my question. Would it be different if I were straight and Brittney were another guy?"

"You have made it clear that isn't the case. You have also told me -- repeatedly -- that you wouldn't consider something like that with any other man."

"Yes, I have told you that, repeatedly."

"So, your question is moot."

"You ought to have been a lawyer," she replied. "Don't tell me you've ghost-written law books."

"No. They have their own resources for that."

"I see."

"And, I think their object is to make the prose more obfuscatory, rather than more lucid."

Molly laughed. "I think you're right about that, Ben."

"There's another thing, Molly -- another way to look at it."

"What's that?"

"I believe that as adults we have free wills. I don't own you and you don't own me. I hold no right to dictate what you do, and with whom you do it. I love you, Molly, but that love doesn't grant me exclusive rights to you. My love for you is strong enough to let you go, if I felt your happiness required it."

"Really, Ben? You'd really let me go?"

"Yes -- if I believed your happiness required it. As I said before, there isn't anything I would not do if I thought your happiness needed it. I wouldn't be happy about letting you go, but I would do it. The point is -- the best way for me to make sure you don't stray off is simply to give you a better deal than anyone else. By better deal, I mean better companionship, better interaction, better intimacy ... better sex..."

She snuggled against him. "Mmm ... I do see the validity of what you say. Who needs an expressed commitment when we love each other enough to give the very best of ourselves?"

"That's right. True love isn't selfish. True love is generous. All I can do is to give you all of which I'm capable and hope no one shows up with a better offer."

"Mmm ... Yes -- that makes perfect sense to me, now. Ben -- I'm really glad we had this conversation. It makes me feel much better."