ero? Harlan? Yes. A decorated marine in Vietnam, and he was captured but never talked, even when they tortured him and burned spots on his feet. But it wasn't that. He could speak his heart, "Gail, I love to see your nipples under that white tee shirt." It would blow me away. He wouldn't be touching me, but with his eyes and voice he was walking inside me. I could feel him enter and exit. When he'd call, I felt like I was slogging through mud. Sometimes, listening to his stories, I'd dance improvisationally. Focused, he was very focused.

When Ted came back I was there to meet him in the Ranger. Our Dalmatian, Dottie, by my side. Dottie saw everything. Strange having a dog go back and forth from state to state, the only witness to my extramarital affair. A whole new meaning to extra. So Dottie and I greeted Ted as though nothing had happened. A sweet homecoming. Burritos for dinner, just like regular life. I was so high. Duplicity suits me. A walk after dinner smelling the sage.

And how did I do it? Cellular phone. That's one thing. Little flights in the Cessna Ted had taught me to pilot. Ted's trips. My trips. Harlan's desire to not be pinned down. His consulting trips. And were there problems? I didn't know Harlan had any. He drank, had fights in bars, never with me. Oh, a woman was sacred. He would have killed himself rather than touch me. Gambling - he wasn't in Vegas just for his mining job. Oh, no, he played blackjack in illegal hideaways. Never in the big casinos. Never was he unable to rise in the morning. Never was he anything but a gentleman with me.

---