The "gentleman" next door clearly asked what the girl's name was and if she'd eaten yet. She told him her name was Claire, and no, she hadn't. He ordered her some smoked salmon and champagne. Very considerate.

Mitch drank his brandy as the couple had casual conversation and waited for the food. Mona was particularly excited by the idea of the hooker performing next door and wondered what she looked like and how good her technique was. Mitch was pretty aroused himself, although he wouldn't admit it. Mitch was a large, powerful man who dressed impeccably and had pretty simple tastes in sex. Mona didn't like to brag, but he was in no way a management problem. He liked to look at her in pretty underwear and pretty outfits. He liked to watch her taking some of the items off, but not all of them. He didn't think perfectly naked was fun either for her or for himself. The sight of her lovely body partially clothed or fully clothed, but with no underpants, excited him most of all.

As soon as he got an erection, which was as soon and often as she wanted him to, he had to get into her right away. He was in such a big hurry, he rarely took the time to take his pants off. He unzipped and jumped her like a cowboy wrestling down a steer, banging her enthusiastically, either from the front or back, depending on how confident he felt. He preferred her pussy tight, which was easy enough to provide since they never did much in the way of foreplay. Mona was totally crazy about him and rarely had to do a thing. Her fantasies during the four minutes it took her lover to come alternated between Leda's rape by the swan, penetration by the huge dick of the bull that sired the Minotaur, and being a favorite sex slave in a steamy, sultry, torrid harem of a sheik of Araby.

On blow job nights, it was another story altogether. Blow jobs were specialty items she doled out carefully because they took forever. Mitch liked thinking she loved him so much that she could joyfully suck and lick him all night and he never had to feel the slightest bit rushed. He did not like feeling rushed. Even the tiniest threat of pressure to get it over with could keep him on the brink for another hour. If the deal was for orgasm, she had to go for completion no matter how tired she got of sucking and yanking. She only sucked him to orgasm and swallowed when a deal was on the table. Thursday night a deal had been on the table. They were getting married so she could be a mother before her eggs got too old.

Then a surprising thing happened in the sex next door. It turned out not to be a meat-and-potatoes job. The john liked to spank noisily, and pretty soon the smacks and accompanying moans traveled through the walls like shots across the water. (He must have done some practicing.) In any case, this idea of punishment as an accompaniment to sex had never occurred to Mitch before, and he was captivated by it.

He told Mona to strip to her bra, garter belt, and stockings, which of course she did. He sat on the chair by the desk, by the door to the room next door. He emptied the brandy glass and pressed it against the door, the better to hear what was going on. Mona loved her costume-gold stockings, gold bra, and a gold garter belt. Gold was one of her best colors. Her bottom was bare. Still in her fuck-me shoes, she knelt on the carpet without even wondering when last it had been shampooed. In a second she was between his knees, unzipping his Sulka Cavalry twills. Mitch was not a badly hung man. Maybe seven inches. Maybe as much as eight. His endowment was certainly nothing to scoff at, and she was totally crazy about him. She always got excited just thinking about his cock. Tonight the thing was absolutely huge with the added thrill of hearing Claire cry, "Oui, oui, oui!" each time a slap resounded on her French fanny and thighs.

Thinking about living happily ever after with him, Mona settled into her job with a fervor unknown to her before. Her tongue traveled round and round the head of Mitch's cock, darting in and out of the hole the way he liked it, while her hands moved energetically up and down the shaft. She got it really wet but didn't slurp. Her energy and skill got the thing throbbing almost immediately. Mitch was huffing and puffing and gasping and moaning like a man in absolute paradise. He made a few experimental squeezes and claplike pats at her bottom and came like a rocket in no time flat. This time she knew she'd be a bride before September for sure.

But then the next morning he went home to Long Island without any warning at all. First of all, any separation between them was extremely unusual. But even more unusual was the fact that he hadn't spoken to her once since.

One who knows the enemy and knows himself will not be endangered in a hundred engagements. One who does not know the enemy but knows himself will sometimes be victorious, sometimes meet with defeat. One who knows neither the enemy nor himself will invariably be defeated in every engagement.

Know your enemy. Mitch was a very dependent man parading as an independent one, so it wasn't like him to sulk for long about anything.

Know yourself. Mona would be the first to admit that Thursday night she might have pushed him just a little too hard about telling Cassie she was history, but the end of the evening had turned out so well, she was certain the two of them were chapel bound. She certainly had not anticipated that he would overreact on the way home. They'd been planning to stay abroad for three weeks. In France they would do the heart of Burgundy, the Côte d'Or, the golden slope, where some of the most pricey wines in the world were made. Then they'd hop down to Italy, where they'd been wooing two important producers for several years. The two stuck together, even though they were in different regions and were just on the verge of changing distributors and signing with them. If Mitch pulled it off, the well-known Tuscan Chiantis and Piedmont Barolos would give them a 3 percent increase in sales.

As for the audit, Mitch always left the audits to Ira and never had any trouble. They had sales figures for a company of $600,000,000. Every year there was a little audit. Every year they paid a little extra, and it was no problem. But this year, for some reason, Mitch was worried and had changed his mind about going to Italy. He was a big baby. All she'd wanted was for him to set a tentative September date for their wedding. Tentative was not absolute. And she hoped to be pregnant by then anyway. He had to get used to the idea. She'd waited for twelve years. She wasn't waiting anymore.

It did not take a brilliant strategist to know that this was the time for action. He hated his wife, was rarely in the same room with her. They had no interests in common. They hadn't been together sexually for years. She ticked the items off on her fingers. It made no sense for him to drag his feet anymore. Every single day of Mona's life he insulted her and her ovaries and their child-to-be with this delay. Was there something she was missing?

He had insulted her further by calling her selfish (after their wonderful night) when she didn't go right home with him. Anybody would agree it was much more selfish of him to go home early than it was for her to stay two measly days more in Paris. They were supposed to be having fun! Now he wouldn't even let her back down and tell him she was very sensitive to his dilemma. Very sensitive.

"One who knows when he can fight, and when he cannot fight, will be victorious."

The last thing Mona wanted to do was hurt Cassie. She loved Cassie. She was totally sincere when she said, "Mitch, Cassie is the greatest, honey. You underestimate her. Believe me she's strong enough to face reality."

She studied her nail polish as Stace's voice drifted back into her consciousness. He was talking about chopping down entire redwood forests for his stupid lodge and illegally shooting the wolves that had been reproducing like crazy, killing dozens of cows and chickens and dogs. Stace had told her it was a felony to shoot a wolf, but what was a rancher to do when the government was run by a bunch of tree huggers who couldn't see a natural disaster when it hit them in the face? Mona saw Cassie the same way and totally agreed with him.