I applied my lipstick. My husband looped his belt through his pants. We left the babysitter, a grad student named Cory, with our three-year-old daughter and drove to my work party. My job was in the arts department of a medium-sized university, and our dean always hosted an annual summer's-end party at his well-kept, historic home. We parked, but before we got out of the car, I held my husband's face in my hands and gave him a loving kiss. He looked especially handsome tonight.
Inside, I mingled and eventually found myself with a fizzy cocktail in hand chatting with a slim, new adjunct professor our department had hired. Jennifer was her name. She was in her late twenties and had just finished her graduate schooling. This job was the first in her career. She'd recently arrived in town and was excited and nervous about the upcoming semester. She talked a bit too much about herself, perhaps out of self-consciousness of being at a party where she didn't know anyone well.
As I patiently listened, an opinion of her formed in my mind. Although Jennifer was worldly and obviously well educated, she had a sheltered naiveté about her. I knew the type. She'd been stuck in the Ivory Tower too long. And although she was a lovely woman, even stunning I'd say, I could tell that she had trouble finding men who weren't intimidated by her academic smarts. I also surmised she went through a lesbian phase in her undergrad days. As I said, I know the type. The term is LUG—Lesbians Until Graduation. Maybe she even had a threesome with a man and a girlfriend. At her university, it was hip to be sexually open-minded. It gave her credibility among her peers.
But if I was reading Jennifer correctly, her heart wasn't in it during her lesbian phase. Men still mattered to her. She had probably let herself be fucked with a strap-on now and then, but a fake phallus would only make her desire for a real one more clear. She was a heterosexual. She wanted attention from men. She needed a man's scratchy face kissing hers. It should be a man's hard body gyrating on top of hers, not a woman's. In her pussy, a real man's cock, not a simulation, was meant to be screwing her. I guessed it had probably been a long while since she'd had a real one.
I knew my husband would love to fuck her.
He was drawn to the lovelorn, the desperately horny. He wanted to help them. To him, when he knew of a woman in need of a good fuck who didn't have a suitable partner, it sort of made him sad. He loved women and felt they deserved to be satisfied. He wanted to help them, just like he'd want to help a depressed male friend who needed to be taken out for a fun night on the town. When a woman couldn't get laid, in his mind it almost meant something was wrong with the world.
I planned to introduce them, let him make his move. Then I'd slip away.
Jennifer was still talking about something or other. I peered over her shoulder and saw my man across the room. He was mingling, sipping a rock-glass cocktail, and picking an hors d'oeuvres off a server's tray. I'd bring them together soon enough.
I interrupted her. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but are you seeing anyone?"
"No, not right now. I'm not into the long distance thing."
"Oh. So you had a boyfriend in back in Ohio?"
She blushed a little. "Well, actually, it's been a while. I'm hoping to meet someone new now that I'm here in a new home."
"I'll think about if there's anyone I can fix you up with," I offered, touching her shoulder with sisterly affection. "In the meantime, I'd like you to meet my husband." If she was that eager, she'd be in for a treat with Phil.
I brought her over to him. He disengaged from the conversation he'd been having and took her hand with a warm smile. "Nice to meet you," he said while giving me a little clandestine wink. I returned it with a sly, knowing look.
"Jennifer here is a new professor," I offered. "She was just telling me she's interested in getting to know the men of our town."
"Well, I...," she stammered and blushed again.
I laughed as I patted her on her back."Sorry, dear. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I meant to say she was telling me she a boyfriend before, but now she's on the market again."
Their ensuing conversation was just cocktail party chit chat, but Phil immediately started to charm her. He's a womanizer to be sure, but only in the sense that he loves women. He's not oily or aggressively seductive. He's just a naturally lovable guy and a happy person. Because of his ready smile and easy-going good looks, women like to stand close to him. Small physical intimacies are easy with him. He touched her shoulder to punctuate a thought. And for her part, she grabbed his forearm as she laughed at a joke.
Phil knew what he was doing. These small intimacies build a foundation for larger ones, which then slide into arousal and sexual compulsion.
I myself went to go mingle around, talking with colleagues and friends. I later found Phil and Jennifer outside on a quiet part of the house's wrap-around porch. They were leaning close to each other, almost whispering in good-natured conspiracy. His arm was on the railing that she leaned against. His fingers were stroking her bare back between the straps of her dress. This light touch was yet another part of his warming her up, and she was loving the attention. But he was subtle. I knew he wouldn't want to embarrass me by overtly hitting on someone in a social situation. And his subtlety kept Jennifer baited. He knew how to deftly walk the line.
"There you are," I said.
Jennifer looked up, with an expression of mild surprise and perhaps guilt. Her building sexual attraction to Phil distracted her so, she probably almost forgot I existed. But Phil was nonchalant. "Hi, love," he said. "Are you having a good time?"
"Yes, but I think I'm done for the night. I'm going to go home and relieve the babysitter. But if you want to stay, I don't mind."
"You sure?"
