Too Easy Read Online Free Page A

seconds go by. Then she makes a little shrug, answers in a low, sincere voice. “You have to ask?”
    Impulsively, her hands reach out, take one of his. The first time they’ve touched. He tries not to notice, not to gasp. He thinks his hand will catch fire.
    A tremor starts up from his left knee, stalks through his genitals and skids to a stop in the skin of his belly. Lovely and scary.
    â€œDamn,” he says aloud but softly. Trying to be casual. “Nice hands.”
    She laughs, squeezes his hand tighter. “That’s my line.”
    I’ve got a hard-on, he thinks, and I feel exactly like I’m sixteen. It was just like this. All hot glands and awkward everything. What do you do? What do you say? That’s just it. You never know. You just sit there with your tongue hanging out, and your dick sticking up, and you don’t know what the hell you’re supposed to do. Or what you want to do. Or how you feel.
    He struggles for some middle ground, no cheap jokes, no wild declarations. He wants to say, “This is a little, uh, unsettling for me.” Too wimpy? Instead he says, “You look real nice.”
    She nods, smiling in a serious way. Showing him she understands what he’s feeling, that she’s patient. Moving her fingers slightly, caressing the back of his hand.
    He glances down, sure there’ll be burn marks where she’s touching him. Actual red marks. No, his hands lookcompletely ordinary. But the tingling, the electricity, going up and down his arm is astonishing. But what is it really? Desire? Wonderful, idiot desire? Or some weird playing with danger? Something he shouldn’t have, so he desires it more? And this desire, being so strong, so mixed up with guilt, seems more valid than any other thought or emotion? If he were single, if he could lean over and casually kiss her, would he feel even half of it?
    â€œThis is nice,” Robert says, taking her hands briefly between his. “But it’s getting late. If I start now, I can walk it. Like I said,” he smiles, “you’re looking real nice.”
    He gets out his wallet, puts a ten on the table for their drinks.
    Kathy says, “I think it’ll be all right to leave with you.” There, that conspiratorial note. She’s good at letting it slip in now and then. They’re in this together. In deep.
    They stand up and move toward the door. She walks a half step behind him. He feels her fingers lightly clutching his elbow, or tickling it. A little secret communication: I’m here.
    Yeah, Robert thinks, like I’m going to forget.
    He pushes through the door, goes out onto East 36th, glancing nervously at the people walking by.

Chapter
6
    â€¢  Anne Saunders stares from one big monitor to the other, spread sheets on both screens. She leans back in her chair, glances at the clock on the wall, sighs, plays with a pencil.
    Yeah, clock, she thinks. My clock. What time is it? It’s late.
    The rows of figures blur. This company’s books are so unbalanced, she knows she’ll be struggling the rest of the day to put them in order.
    Robert, she thinks, seems not quite himself . . . or perhaps I’m more needful. Probably it’s my fault. Oh yes, definitely. . . . The job’s not so challenging anymore. But I want that promotion. . . . The possibility of children floats before her mind, very real, and she scans the terrain for dangers to this idea. . . . I’m so sensitive to the little pluses and minuses. You think about the problems and you’re overwhelmed. It’s a wonder anybody has children.
    A knock on the door. She turns and sees Edd—“that’s twod’s”—Lawrence. “Hi, how’re you doing? Eating in? Want to try the cafeteria with me?”
    She stares at his bland, pleasant face. Just the sort of man who makes everyone think tax people are dull. The most interesting thing