Free Three Women by Marge Piercy

were headed. This man had emerged from her computer and he would vanish back into it. Lately she had been having occasional hot flashes and she had missed a couple of periods last year, including one in December. Her gynecologist told her it was the onset of menopause. Change of life. Perhaps one aspect of that change was hallucinating this man whose arm was around her waist, whose hip occasionally bumped hers as they walked, as they crossed Mass. Ave., as they entered the lobby of the Inn.
    She felt ridiculously pleased and excited, even aroused as they went up in the elevator and walked along the corridor open on one side to the central atrium, then around a corner to his room. It was neat. He had his laptop set up and several folders on the desk. No clothes lay around, no wet towels.
    He put his hands on her hips. “We’ve both been moving toward this for two years. Don’t be coy with me now, Suzanne. Don’t you want to know how we are together? Haven’t you imagined this time and again?”
    â€œOf course,” she said honestly. She did not add that imagining was all she had expected.
    He kissed her then, his mouth strange and invasive and exciting. As she kissed him back, as she loosened his shirt even as he undid her blouse, this molten Suzanne was familiar. She felt twenty again, back in late adolescence and early adulthood when sex had been an adventure, when she did not yet fear her own body and the consequences of passion. Here, she thought, there were none. It was all happening in cyberspace. He was a visitor in every sense of the word. A Suzanne she had thought dead, stirred, blossomed, grabbed control. Things moved quickly. She had always liked leisurely lovemaking, but her hunger wanted satisfying now, fast. He was slender but tight, the body of an active man, not buff like a young athlete, for he had a soft belly, but fit, stronger than his size would indicate. Easily he picked her up and spread her on the queen-size bed.
    It had been so many years since she had put anything in her mouth besides food and a toothbrush, she was surprised how quickly her old skill at giving head came back to her. She ran her tongue around the head of his prick, then took him in her mouth. She still felt giddy. He was going down on her before she suddenly thought of contraception. She hadn’t been on the pill in over a decade. Lectures she had given her daughters about unprotected sex came back to her with a sudden rush. “Uh…do you have a condom?”
    He showed her the packet and she helped him put it on. He hurt her a little, although he entered slowly and she was wet. It was hard to separate the pleasure from the pain, the sharpness from the urgency. He settled into a steady rhythm and she bounded up to meet him, thrust for thrust. He was waiting for her and she concentrated. As excited as she was, she did not think she could come. She was too nervous with him. After several minutes, she faked an orgasm, as she had remembered doing with Sam. He moved then into a harder rhythm, building toward his own climax, and as he pounded into her, the almost forgotten rush of warmth and power and pleasure began building in her until she exploded just before he did. Afterward she felt like laughing, because shehad made much less noise during her real orgasm than she had when she mimicked pleasure.
    They lay for a while loosely holding each other. Then they showered and she began his tour of neighborhoods. It was clear they would make love again later. Have sex, at any rate. Although she felt close to him, she did not trust the intimacy. Nor did she fear it. Some women went on spa vacations to feel better. She was having a one-day affair.

7
    Beverly
    Beverly got Elena when she called. “So how come the only beauty in the whole family is answering the phone? How come I’m so lucky?”
    â€œOnly you’d say so, Grandma. It’s my good luck to get you. So how are you doing? Did you get