I had hoped that our second—actually, third—time around I would be able to hold it much longer, as I usually am. However, my voice began to quiver as soon as she opened the door. She was in her bathrobe, and she was simply delicious. I knew I was in trouble even before we reached her bed. That sweet feeling in my groin… Indeed, I came like a boy soon after I started making love to her. She just excites me too much, as I kept telling her. After a longish pause, which gave us a chance to talk to each other, I acquitted myself a bit better, but I still came after less than ten minutes in her—just as she began enjoying herself. I came in her, too. Again, that sweet feeling… Well, we will have to keep trying until I give her a decent fuck. She certainly deserves it.

Addendum I (February 2, 2000)

We were supposed to get together yesterday morning, but the day before Lesley sent me a mobile-phone message putting our meeting in doubt. “We have a problem,” she wrote breathlessly. Namely, her son came early from school with a bad cold or flu. I immediately responded by wishing her son all the best. I meant it, too. Having just returned from a day-and-a-half with Lauren, I was in no great mood for another drill with Lesley. We left the whole thing open, though. All I needed was to be told by about nine in the morning whether or not to come, and I would be in the train by ten, as well as at her home by eleven, like the first time we met a week earlier. Her message came in time, but she said that she did not want me to come even though her son was back at school. When I wrote back to learn more about this surprising message, Leslie explained that she felt uncomfortable about our meeting. “I do not want to be observed again,” she explained. I wrote back that I understood her perfectly well. My book worried her deeply. And that was the end of it. However, last night she sent me another message, expressing surprise at the ease with which I gave up: “I kind of expected you at my doorstep at eleven.” She probably did, but I guess she was happy I did not show up. “My loss,” she concluded fairly. I wrote back that I would never come against her expressed wishes. By way of a non sequitur, I added a few words about my new optimism regarding Lauren and me. She congratulated me, apparently with feeling. She does like Lauren and our children, I am quite sure. And that was that. Chances are I will never again hear from old Lesley.

Addendum II (February 5, 2000)

God knows why, I sent Lesley another mobile phone message last night: “Do you still feel observed?” She responded playfully and I pushed on: “What’s so wrong about being observed or written up?” At one point she wrote that my book was about my ego, and I asked her what was wrong about that. We briefly touched on the subject of art, as well. After a while, she cut the crap: “Why are you writing to me now?” I responded that I enjoyed our banter. She was not impressed:

I am not interested in your artistic side. If you knew me better, you would know that “no” means “yes.” I should be fucking you now.

And that was all I really wanted to hear from her. I do not believe I will be writing to her again. However, I wanted her to understand that she had mismanaged our relationship, which could have become quite jolly. Chances are that last Tuesday I would have given her a fine fuck, too, one she would remember. I would remember it fondly, as well, I am sure. Still, I am glad this hard-boiled affair is over. Lesley is not the kind of woman I would like to meet ever again. To paraphrase Lauren, bonking is perhaps for kids.