Free Carousel Court by Joe McGinniss

reddish-brown stubble on his chin. Through the sweeping window behind him, the electric-blue bridge against the night sky.
    â€œThis is weird,” she said.
    He took the laptop from her, placed it on his desk, and returned to her. “What is?”
    â€œI don’t even know what this is,” she said.
    He took her hands. She considered what she’d say to Nick, how she’d rationalize the decision: Do you realize what someone like that can do for someone like me?
    So you’re some kind of whore? he’d say.
    This is our life, Nick. I’ve made my choice, and I chose you. And it wasn’t a mistake. This thing with JW was a calculated risk, and I took it. And the last part would be less than truthful. There was very little calculation involved. Only the adrenaline rush when the door closed behind her and they were alone.
    â€œ Close your eyes,” he said. “Open your hand.”
    She followed his directions.
    He placed an object in her right hand. “Open your eyes.” It was her smartphone. She’d left it in his office. “If you ever leave this anywhere other than this office or your home, you will lose your job.”
    She said nothing.
    â€œYou realize the sensitivity of the information on there.”
    â€œThe password—”
    â€œForget the password. Anyone can bypass that.”
    She apologized and started to leave.
    â€œPhoebe,” he said. “You have to earn trust.”
    â€¢ •
    The following night, after he returned her smartphone to her, Phoebe was again in JW’s corner office. It was after eight. The floor was nearly deserted, hushed. Only the cleaning staff made any noise. His shoes were off. He wore a blue oxford, untucked, no tie. He tapped out a text message on his personal phone.
    He brought a hand to her face, her jaw.
    â€œThe door,” she said.
    â€œWhat about it?”
    She moved past him to the window. There were so many boats in the harbor. All the red and white lights drifting across the black water. “So do something.” The voice that came from her was steady. Without hesitation and before she could manage to turn around, she felt all the weight of him lean against her, pressing them both against the glass, and she wondered how much force it could withstand.
    After, he talked about his family. He smiled when he showed her pictures of his son building sandcastles on a beach, wearing a life vest in a boat on some lake. He seemed to listen when he asked about her relationship with Nick and how they met in college and their apartment and the stupid details of life with no real money as newlyweds and nonstop sex and no sense of where the hell life was taking them. God, he missed those days.
    â€œAnd these?” she asked. “Will you miss these days when they’re gone?”
    â€œI’ll miss this.”
    â€œWhat is this ?” she asked him.
    He laughed. “Hell if I know.”
    â€¢ •
    A routine developed between them at work. She’d be at her desk, having called Nick to tell him she was going to yoga or drinks with friends,and she’d have spent twenty minutes in the ladies’ room applying MAC eyeliner and Sephora powder that she’d picked up at lunch because it was Thursday and that worked best for JW. His office was always dark except for his desk lamp, and he’d be on his cell and in the middle of things and it was after seven, almost eight, and she’d lock the door behind her and stand at the sweeping glass window and stare out at the new bridge, glowing blue and stuffed with red taillights and white headlights and the cold black water she couldn’t see flowing beneath it, and she’d feel her heart race when his call ended and keep her back to him and close her eyes the moment his hands moved up and under her skirt until she was guiding his fingertips gently, easily, inside of her. The thought occurred to her, irrational as it was: This is