Tim was terrified. When he and his dad discussed Clarisse’s ugly comments, and Tim had reluctantly admitted that even before that evening he had begun to doubt himself. He’d been a normal teenaged stud, seducing several members of his high school class, then having several longer-term relationships in college. But with Clarisse it had been different. As the months of their relationship passed, it took longer and longer for him to arouse her. He tried to be considerate and give her the time she needed but after prolonged foreplay, once he finally got inside, he came so quickly that Clarisse complained that Tim always left her unsatisfied. The last few times they had slept together, he’d been unable to get an erection at all. “Don’t you have a clue about women?” Clarisse had shrieked late one night. “All you want to do is fuck. Stick it in and to hell with the woman.” She’d laughed at him. “Now you can’t even get it up.” His brain understood what was going on, but his soul had doubts.
The scene at his father’s dinner table had been a humiliation for Tim and for several weeks he had gone straight home after work and shut himself in his apartment. After almost a month his father had showed up at his door and sat him down for a serious talk.
At first Tim had been appalled by his dad’s suggestion of hiring a prostitute, but when Ronnie’s name came up, Tim’s interest had been piqued and his body had reacted. Although he’d only met her the one time on the boat, he’d spent many nights fantasizing about her long blond hair and great body. TJ had explained about Jack and Ronnie’s unusual relationship, and Tim had agreed to the outlandish plan.
Now Ronnie was here and Tim was panic-stricken. This was all a terrible mistake. As Tim saw the corners of her mouth turn up, he asked, “What are you smiling at?” Her eyes were roaming all over his body, making his skin prickle. Was she going to make fun of him and of this ridiculous idea?
“Nothing. It’s just that you’ve matured and I enjoy looking at you.” She would tell him later, in detail, how hunky he’d become. Instinctively Ronnie knew that he wasn’t ready.
Tim was nice looking, with sandy brown hair and eyes the color of toast. As Tim nervously ran his long, delicate fingers through his hair, Ronnie thought about how those hands would feel on her skin. Nice, she thought, warming to her task. Very nice. And despite his nervousness, he had a sexy way of looking right into her eyes that made Ronnie tingle. “May I come in?” she said, noticing that he had worn the jeans she’d suggested.
Tim stepped back and let Ronnie brush past him into his apartment. God, he thought, she smells so good. “I’m glad you came.” His face reddened and he looked mortified as he realized his accidental double entendre.
“You know, Tim,” Ronnie said as Tim shut the door, “we’re going to drive each other crazy if we don’t relax.” She placed a light kiss on his cheek and dropped her coat on a chair.
“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve been jumpy as a cat all day.” He rubbed his hands down the thighs of his jeans. “I’m not sure this was a good idea.”
“It was a wonderful idea and we’ll just talk for a while. Nothing you don’t want. Okay?”
Tim looked at his shoes, then looked at Ronnie. God, she was so sexy. He nodded.
Suddenly Ronnie was completely comfortable. Tim was a genuinely nice human being. “There’s nothing to be jumpy about. Have you got anything to drink? I think we could both use one.”
“I’ve got a bottle of champagne.”
“Great. Got any orange juice? We could make mimosas.”
“Sure. Good idea. The OJ’s in the fridge.”
“Any brandy?”
“There might be a bottle in the closet to the right. Why?”
“To make the perfect mimosa,” Ronnie said, crossing to the tiny kitchen, “you should add a shot of brandy.” Ronnie retrieved a container of juice and rummaged through the liquor closet until she found a bottle of Triple Sec. “This’ll do,” she said. Returning to the living room, she saw that Tim had half-filled two champagne flutes with champagne. He quickly added an equal amount of juice, then she topped each off with a shot of Triple Sec.
“To the evening,” Ronnie said, touching her glass to Tim’s.
Tim stared into her eyes over the rim of his glass, unaware of the sensuousness of his gaze. “Yes. To the evening.”
Not too fast, Ronnie told herself, tearing her eyes from his face. She wandered. “Nice place,” she said. They stood in the large living room which was comfortably furnished with a cream-and-navy rough-textured sofa, a matching lounge chair, and modern wooden coffee and end tables. The walls were covered with photos, mostly landscapes, taken all around the world. One that particularly intrigued her showed a market scene of stalls stacked with merchandise and aisles filled with over-tired tourists. Although the photo was in black and white, it conveyed all the colors of the scene. “Where’s this?”
“Cairo,” he said. “I was there two years ago with my dad.”
“And this?” The picture was of a river with houseboats littering its shores.
“Amsterdam.”
“Wow,” she said, honestly impressed. “Did you take all these pictures?”
“Yeah. Photography has been a love of mine since I was a kid.”
“These are terrific.”
“Thanks. I’ve converted my second bedroom into a darkroom and I do all my own developing and enlarging.”
Ronnie walked slowly around the room studying the black-and-white photos. “These are really very good. Do you ever do portraits?”
“Sure.” He pulled out an album and proudly showed Ronnie several skillfully taken photographs of women. He pointed to one, a slightly over-made-up woman in her early twenties with an expression that, despite the smile, seemed disapproving. “That’s Clarisse, my ex-fiancée. I wanted to mount this photo on cardboard and use it as a dartboard, but it’s too good a picture. You know, it’s funny. Now that I think about it, this was one of the few times I ever saw her smile when it wasn’t for effect.”
Ronnie laughed. “From what your father told me, the dartboard idea sounds like a good one.”
Tim hesitated, then joined Ronnie’s laughter. “You’re right. But it truly is a good picture of her.” He studied the photo. “Actually, she’s never looked that good.”
Ronnie kicked off her shoes, settled onto the sofa, and patted the seat next to her. “Sit here and we’ll talk.” As he sat down, she asked, “Would you be interested in taking some pictures of me? I’d love to have a good portrait to give Jack for our anniversary.”
“Sure. That would be great. I’d really enjoy it.”
“Have you ever considered taking portraits professionally? The ones you showed me were really good.”
“Do you really think I could do this for money?”
“You never know. Maybe the ones I have in mind will be the start of a new career.”
While they made small talk
