Smith.”
“Well, good morning, Mr. Smith. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to set up a meeting for this afternoon, if possible.”
“Certainly, sir. Will that be with your usual contact?”
“If she’s available, that would be great.”
“She is. At your regular conference area?”
“Please.”
“What time works for you, sir?”
“Two?”
“Two it is. Shall I use the card on file?”
“That’s fine. Thank you very much.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith. Enjoy your meeting.”
He pressed the button to disconnect the call. He simulta-
neously felt guilt at his own dishonesty and thrilling excitement at
his impending “meeting.” The thought of the small, shapely,
blonde—so physically like Jennifer, but willing to do so much
more—writhing beneath him and calling his name aroused him to
the point where it was almost painful. He stepped on the gas and
zipped past an eighteen-wheeler, the speed only adding to his exhil-
aration.
* * *
The morning was beautiful and clear on the lake and Jennifer
62 Georgia Beers
took her tea out onto the deck to breathe in the clean air and listen
to the lapping of the water. The air was a bit cool, but the sound
was calming and she let it wash over her, taking some of her stress
and worries with it.
Eric had been up, showered, dressed, and on his way to work
very early. He’d been distant and quiet all through the breakfast
she’d fixed him. The Eric she’d seen the night before had vanished,
just as she’d suspected he would.
She refused to dwell on the growing problems in her marriage,
though in reality, she knew she should have concentrated on them
more. Avoidance was the absolute wrong way to handle a dilemma,
but that’s what she’d always done. This is too hard to deal with, so I
just…won’t. Somehow, the fact that she knew that’s what she did,
didn’t seem to help or make her attempt to change things and she
was often frustrated by her own pigheadedness.
She had always found that the best way to avoid a problem was
to focus on something completely different. So, that morning, she
contemplated her house, the one thing in her life that she was happy
with, the one thing bringing her any sort of pleasure. She went
inside and decided her next project would be the master bedroom.
Hell, she thought. If I’m going to spend most of my time in it alone,
I can at least decorate it so it suits me.
As was her modus operandi, she pulled up a chair and sat in
the doorway, simply studying the room, getting a feel for the size,
the scope, the possibilities…trying to envision what she’d like it to
be, how she’d like it to look from the doorway—the place anybody
would be standing when they saw it for the first time. It was a large
rectangle with a master bath off to the left. That room, having been
recently remodeled, was in fantastic shape and—much to Jennifer’s
delighted surprise—didn’t need any help from her. Its Jacuzzi bath-
tub and white, ceramic tile floors were precisely what she would
have picked. The bedroom itself, however, was very bland: off-white
walls, off-white molding, and off-white mini-blinds. The hardwood
floor was the only saving grace, the only thing that held any charac-
ter. Jennifer had already decided that she liked the idea of varying
shades of purple and she’d used it as an accent color in the bath-
room. She was fond of the concept of carrying that into the bed-
room to tie the two rooms together, so she examined the space
carefully, envisioning what she thought might work and tossing
away ideas that didn’t quite seem to fit.
As she sat there, she remembered seeing a room she’d fallen in
love with in one of the many design and home improvement maga-
zines she’d become addicted to. She jumped up and ran downstairs,
opened the bottom cabinets of a shelf in the living room and
groaned at what had to be twenty-five or thirty various magazines.
Thy Neighbor’s
“Well, good morning, Mr. Smith. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to set up a meeting for this afternoon, if possible.”
“Certainly, sir. Will that be with your usual contact?”
“If she’s available, that would be great.”
“She is. At your regular conference area?”
“Please.”
“What time works for you, sir?”
“Two?”
“Two it is. Shall I use the card on file?”
“That’s fine. Thank you very much.”
“Thank you, Mr. Smith. Enjoy your meeting.”
He pressed the button to disconnect the call. He simulta-
neously felt guilt at his own dishonesty and thrilling excitement at
his impending “meeting.” The thought of the small, shapely,
blonde—so physically like Jennifer, but willing to do so much
more—writhing beneath him and calling his name aroused him to
the point where it was almost painful. He stepped on the gas and
zipped past an eighteen-wheeler, the speed only adding to his exhil-
aration.
* * *
The morning was beautiful and clear on the lake and Jennifer
62 Georgia Beers
took her tea out onto the deck to breathe in the clean air and listen
to the lapping of the water. The air was a bit cool, but the sound
was calming and she let it wash over her, taking some of her stress
and worries with it.
Eric had been up, showered, dressed, and on his way to work
very early. He’d been distant and quiet all through the breakfast
she’d fixed him. The Eric she’d seen the night before had vanished,
just as she’d suspected he would.
She refused to dwell on the growing problems in her marriage,
though in reality, she knew she should have concentrated on them
more. Avoidance was the absolute wrong way to handle a dilemma,
but that’s what she’d always done. This is too hard to deal with, so I
just…won’t. Somehow, the fact that she knew that’s what she did,
didn’t seem to help or make her attempt to change things and she
was often frustrated by her own pigheadedness.
She had always found that the best way to avoid a problem was
to focus on something completely different. So, that morning, she
contemplated her house, the one thing in her life that she was happy
with, the one thing bringing her any sort of pleasure. She went
inside and decided her next project would be the master bedroom.
Hell, she thought. If I’m going to spend most of my time in it alone,
I can at least decorate it so it suits me.
As was her modus operandi, she pulled up a chair and sat in
the doorway, simply studying the room, getting a feel for the size,
the scope, the possibilities…trying to envision what she’d like it to
be, how she’d like it to look from the doorway—the place anybody
would be standing when they saw it for the first time. It was a large
rectangle with a master bath off to the left. That room, having been
recently remodeled, was in fantastic shape and—much to Jennifer’s
delighted surprise—didn’t need any help from her. Its Jacuzzi bath-
tub and white, ceramic tile floors were precisely what she would
have picked. The bedroom itself, however, was very bland: off-white
walls, off-white molding, and off-white mini-blinds. The hardwood
floor was the only saving grace, the only thing that held any charac-
ter. Jennifer had already decided that she liked the idea of varying
shades of purple and she’d used it as an accent color in the bath-
room. She was fond of the concept of carrying that into the bed-
room to tie the two rooms together, so she examined the space
carefully, envisioning what she thought might work and tossing
away ideas that didn’t quite seem to fit.
As she sat there, she remembered seeing a room she’d fallen in
love with in one of the many design and home improvement maga-
zines she’d become addicted to. She jumped up and ran downstairs,
opened the bottom cabinets of a shelf in the living room and
groaned at what had to be twenty-five or thirty various magazines.
Thy Neighbor’s
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