The pleasure principle

"We would have made such a great couple," he sighed. "In another life ..."

"Yes," I said, nudging him gently, "especially since you only want to have sex once a week. You'd be no trouble at all."

"Oh, come on, you like me, I can tell," he insisted. "But you're right about one thing. If we lived together, if you saw me every day, you wouldn't look at me the same way when I walk in the door. Still ... if we were a couple, think of the adventures we would have!"

I gave him a sideways look and thought, "I wish you wouldn't bring all this up now, when I'm about to ask you for financial help!" It makes me look like one hell of a tacky chick ... Besides, those three-way adventures we have with other girls are something I would never have in a normal relationship.

As Milt began to dress, I laid out my dilemma -- sort of.

"Remember that letter from the IRS? Well, it looks like I owe some extra taxes -- nothing catastrophic," I assured him, "but I've been advised to pay up before the end of the month." I didn't want to tell him about Tom Winters and the investigation. That might make him paranoid.

"Who's advising you?" he asked.

"Well -- don't laugh. Jasmine says --"

"Jasmine? That brunet who's always in a rush?" He looked bemused as he fiddled with his cufflinks. "What is she up to these days?"

"Helping me to straighten out this IRS mess, for one thing." I looked away and wondered if "mess" was too alarming. "I sort of ... goofed up one of my tax returns" -- forgot to file, actually! "So, I thought you might like to purchase a season ticket," I added mischievously. "I'll give you box seats."

Milt picked up my circular hairbrush from the dresser and straightened his bushy eyebrows while I made my case.

"Besides," I pointed out, "you're the one who told me not to involve my boyfriend in my problems."

"God, don't drag your boyfriend into this, whatever you do," Milt said. "We don't want him asking you all kinds of nosy questions."

I crossed my legs and pulled my silk robe closer together -- the very idea of Matt on one of his snoopy streaks made me want to cover up.

"A season ticket," Milt murmured. "What kind of a loan are we talking about? Have you got collateral?" he asked playfully.

"Only what you've sampled," I shot back. "And you wouldn't exactly want to hold that hostage."

"No," he agreed, "I doubt that I could, anyway."

Then he made a totally unexpected request -- and I wasn't sure what to say.

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