“You’re a very likable girl.”
She smiled at that, her heart warming. This was the Eric she
had married, not the stressed-out, snappish business executive from
earlier in the dinner. Despite the success of his parents and the
image his family projected to the community, Eric had always been
sweet and down-to-earth. That was the major reason Jennifer had
been so worried about the long hours he’d been keeping and the
sudden pressure put upon him by his father. Deep down, she didn’t
think Eric really wanted to take over the firm, but she knew he
would do what he had to in order to please his father. He and Jenni-
fer were very much alike that way. He would do what was expected
of him, but the stress he’d been under was actually altering his per-
sonality, often making him snippy, abrupt, and even insulting. She
was determined to grab onto this glimpse of the man she’d married
while she could, because she was sure it wouldn’t last long.
* * *
She lay there, staring at the ceiling for a long time, wide awake,
mind spinning. Though Eric had relaxed considerably during their
Thy Neighbor’s Wife 59
dinner, a ripple of tension continued to flow through him. Trying to
ease his mind, Jennifer had focused on how good it was to finally
have him home for the night for the first time in weeks, rather than
staying in Buffalo or Pittsford. He seemed to appreciate her enthu-
siasm. They’d barely gotten in the door of the lake house before he
began undressing her. His hands were insistent, his mouth was
demanding and she knew this was something he needed. She barely
had time to register being at the bottom of the stairs before he
cupped her backside, picked her up off the floor and carried her
upstairs to their bedroom, his tongue buried deep in her mouth the
whole way.
Sex with Eric was usually pleasant enough for Jennifer, though
never earth-shattering. She considered it something she did for him,
almost going so far as to use the old-fashioned—and utterly politi-
cally incorrect—phrase “wifely duty.” It was true that she’d listened
to women like Dawn talk about how much they despised sleeping
with their husbands and how they had much better sex when they
were alone, but for every Dawn, there was another woman with the
opposite reaction. She was always envious of friends who had fabu-
lous sex lives with their husbands and she didn’t understand why
she wasn’t one of them.
She wasn’t like Dawn; she didn’t hate sleeping with Eric. He
was usually quite an attentive lover. He wasn’t perfect—she had
faked orgasm more than once in order to escape his dogged
attempts to make her come—but he was by no means selfish in bed.
She had started to think it must be her and that was a little scary.
She’d noticed a change in him recently as well. If she had to
pinpoint a time, she would have to say it began when his father had
started grooming him to take over the family business. The fre-
quency of their lovemaking had waned considerably after that,
which didn’t really concern her. She simply attributed it to the new
stress Eric was under and left it at that. However, the last few times
they’d made love, Eric had taken care of Eric and only Eric. It
seemed that on his part, it was all taking and no giving, which was
very, very unlike him. Jennifer had oscillated between relief at the
shortened amount of time it was taking to perform her “duty” and
worry that Eric no longer cared whether or not she enjoyed being in
bed with him.
That night, he’d entered her much sooner than she would have
liked and she’d tried not to tense every muscle in her body. She’d
closed her eyes and done her best to move with him. He had thrust
into her, pumping furiously, his eyes shut tightly, his brow furrowed
in concentration, though she was not sure on what he was concen-
trating. Their bodies were as close as they could possibly be, but
their minds were on
She smiled at that, her heart warming. This was the Eric she
had married, not the stressed-out, snappish business executive from
earlier in the dinner. Despite the success of his parents and the
image his family projected to the community, Eric had always been
sweet and down-to-earth. That was the major reason Jennifer had
been so worried about the long hours he’d been keeping and the
sudden pressure put upon him by his father. Deep down, she didn’t
think Eric really wanted to take over the firm, but she knew he
would do what he had to in order to please his father. He and Jenni-
fer were very much alike that way. He would do what was expected
of him, but the stress he’d been under was actually altering his per-
sonality, often making him snippy, abrupt, and even insulting. She
was determined to grab onto this glimpse of the man she’d married
while she could, because she was sure it wouldn’t last long.
* * *
She lay there, staring at the ceiling for a long time, wide awake,
mind spinning. Though Eric had relaxed considerably during their
Thy Neighbor’s Wife 59
dinner, a ripple of tension continued to flow through him. Trying to
ease his mind, Jennifer had focused on how good it was to finally
have him home for the night for the first time in weeks, rather than
staying in Buffalo or Pittsford. He seemed to appreciate her enthu-
siasm. They’d barely gotten in the door of the lake house before he
began undressing her. His hands were insistent, his mouth was
demanding and she knew this was something he needed. She barely
had time to register being at the bottom of the stairs before he
cupped her backside, picked her up off the floor and carried her
upstairs to their bedroom, his tongue buried deep in her mouth the
whole way.
Sex with Eric was usually pleasant enough for Jennifer, though
never earth-shattering. She considered it something she did for him,
almost going so far as to use the old-fashioned—and utterly politi-
cally incorrect—phrase “wifely duty.” It was true that she’d listened
to women like Dawn talk about how much they despised sleeping
with their husbands and how they had much better sex when they
were alone, but for every Dawn, there was another woman with the
opposite reaction. She was always envious of friends who had fabu-
lous sex lives with their husbands and she didn’t understand why
she wasn’t one of them.
She wasn’t like Dawn; she didn’t hate sleeping with Eric. He
was usually quite an attentive lover. He wasn’t perfect—she had
faked orgasm more than once in order to escape his dogged
attempts to make her come—but he was by no means selfish in bed.
She had started to think it must be her and that was a little scary.
She’d noticed a change in him recently as well. If she had to
pinpoint a time, she would have to say it began when his father had
started grooming him to take over the family business. The fre-
quency of their lovemaking had waned considerably after that,
which didn’t really concern her. She simply attributed it to the new
stress Eric was under and left it at that. However, the last few times
they’d made love, Eric had taken care of Eric and only Eric. It
seemed that on his part, it was all taking and no giving, which was
very, very unlike him. Jennifer had oscillated between relief at the
shortened amount of time it was taking to perform her “duty” and
worry that Eric no longer cared whether or not she enjoyed being in
bed with him.
That night, he’d entered her much sooner than she would have
liked and she’d tried not to tense every muscle in her body. She’d
closed her eyes and done her best to move with him. He had thrust
into her, pumping furiously, his eyes shut tightly, his brow furrowed
in concentration, though she was not sure on what he was concen-
trating. Their bodies were as close as they could possibly be, but
their minds were on
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