The Sportin' Life Read Online Free Page B

and slithered over to our table and sat down. She wanted me, it was clear, and I knew how impressed my boss was by this fact. I was flattered too. Later we went back to the hotel and she spent the night with me in my room. The sex was in no way astonishing but the whole logistics of the scene were a major turn on.
    The next day we were due to fly home, and I packed to go, ordering her steak and eggs from room service. I grabbed my bag and met my boss so we could head for the parking lot together. There we saw the girl coming in our direction. What was her name — something woodsy like Fauna or exotic like Sirena — and my boss tensed. I know he thought I had gotten smitten and was bringing her back with me. Actually, she had just wanted to catch up and say good-bye and to thank me for the night.
    I love one night stands in faraway places. You can develop just the right degree of intimacy and feel relaxed and secure because you know you ’ ll never see the girl again. That was one of my favorites, because of the cachet of the situation and because it impressed my boss so much it resulted in a promotion. Somebody has to do the living for these poor slobs who are so tied up in domesticity that they don ’ t have an inch in which to breathe.
    Liana was amused by the story, I know. I loved telling my tales of conquest to her, for she ’ d laugh and enjoy them as much as any guy, maybe even more, because Liana didn ’ t feel competitive with me the way a lot of guys I know do. It ’ s funny that I ’ m remembering Liana now, for it has been years since I ’ ve seen her and she ’ s 3,000 miles away.
    Memories are the strangest thing in the whole human condition. I love my own memories more than almost anything in my life. I can look back through the pages of this mental scrapbook and recall in intimate detail all the special moments, all that I ’ ve shared and experienced, and it ’ s better in recollection sometimes than it was in fact because I can edit out all the disappointments, the recriminations, the dismal scenes of departure and the accusations made by women who wanted too much, too soon, and were threatening to choke the life out of my very soul.
    In many way, Liana was the most compatible woman I ’ ve ever dated. I might have married Liana. I thought about marrying Liana every time I was with her, but of course I think about marrying them all, and that ’ s probably what has saved me so far from marrying anyone. I loved Liana ’ s apartment, not because it was spectacular in any way really, which it wasn ’ t at all, because I ’ ve been in much more luxurious, more well-appointed places owned by truly wealthy women, which Liana was not. Her place was comfortable and I always felt at home there, almost more at home than anywhere else I ’ ve been, including my childhood home and my own places.
    There were cold cuts and beer in the refrigerator, which Liana kept there for me, and I felt at ease about it all. I never felt like a guest but like a pampered, beloved treasure in Liana ’ s life. Normally, such extravagance of emotion would make me uncomfortable, and perhaps ultimately it did, but while I was there it was like the best vacation I ever had.
    Liana was beautiful. She had this elegant, perfect face, with each angle and plane sculpted thoughtfully and subtly. Even in a pony tail with no makeup Liana looked beautiful. Once I watched her do her makeup — I love that sort of thing — the intimacy of women and observing them in all their rituals. All she did was put on mascara and a touch of rouge. I have seen many women do their faces, and I like to think of myself as knowledgeable and sophisticated in those areas. So I asked her wasn ’ t she going to make cheekbones. And Liana laughed at me and replied, “ Honey! Only God can make a cheekbone! ”
    Liana often laughed at me as though she were witnessing some amusing cartoon about masculine foibles. Well, I pointed out to her that you can put