"Do you think you'll have kids, someday?" It just popped out of his mouth.
"I hope so. We've been trying."
"This could be the weekend," Oliver said hopefully.
"I don't think so," she said. "Rupert's at a stamp collectors' convention . . . You want to go to a movie Saturday afternoon, maybe have a drink?" Her eyes opened wide. Now she was surprised at herself. Oliver blinked.
"Jesus, Jennifer. That sounds a lot like a date."
"Well—yes! Rupert is always telling me I should go out more, get out of the house."
Oliver liked Jennifer. She was easy to be around. She was earnest in a way that he understood. He found it hard to say no to her, which is why, on Saturday night, he found himself on top of her while she kissed him and pulled at his belt buckle.
He objected weakly, and she said, "I don't care. I don't care, Oliver. I've never done this before. I need you." She clamped her mouth on his and put the matter out of reach. She was as purposeful in bed as she was in the office. She took him inside her and urged him on, as though something might pull him away at any moment. It was fast and satisfying. He barely registered that she was both softer and stronger than he thought before she sighed and rolled him to one side. She had that special full and contented woman's smile.
"That was so good," she said. She put her fingers on his lips. "Shhh. I've got to go, now." She dressed quickly. "Will you be in on Monday?" He nodded. She bent over him and put her hand on his chest, as if to measure his strength while at the same time keeping him in place. She lingered for a second. "Good night, Handsome."
"Good night." And she was gone.