She had not thought a single dirty thought since she had been at Phillip’s, so what was this? Sex with Phillip was good. He stroked and kissed and licked so tenderly, and never once did she wish for his hand to come down hard against her backside, but here she was, imagining things that were supposed to be gone, things she had convinced herself she didn’t need anymore.

Phillip opened the door, and she jumped. “Did I scare you?”

She tried to feel each individual brick against her back. “No,” she said.

He put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her to him. His body was warm, and he smelled of frying oil and garlic, and she tried to soften into him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her heart was still racing, and she tried to slow her breathing. “Okay,” she said. She pushed her lips against his chest. She wanted to take his T-shirt in her mouth, to bite down hard on something.

“I’m just tired tonight,” he said.

She touched her tongue to the cotton and then took it between her teeth and counted.

Later that night, she lay in bed trying to read a magazine.

“Do you think we should start doing a catch of the day?” Phillip asked. He came out of the shower draped in a towel and knotted it at his waist.

She crawled to the edge of the bed and pressed her hands against his hips. “I think you should fuck me,” she said.

He ran his hand through her hair. “Oh, honey, I’m so tired. I don’t think I’d last more than a minute.”

She put her forehead on the bed. “All right.”

“I’m sorry.” He dropped the towel and lay down beside her. His hair was still wet, and it tickled her cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “And sexy.”

“It’s okay,” she said.

He looked at her pitifully and then pulled her under the covers. “I guess I’m getting old,” he said.

“No, no, it’s okay.” She lay on his chest, and he stroked her head until his hand rested on her pillow, and she knew he had fallen asleep.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but every muscle in her body was tensed. Once, when she had felt this way over something Mary had done, Devesh had told her to imagine a soft, warm current running from the base of her spine to the crown of her head. He had run his fingers up her body, stopping at her pelvis, her stomach, her heart, and told her to imagine tying the current into a knot. She had closed her eyes, pretended she was trying, but really imagined him tying her to the bed, hundreds of ropes crisscrossing her body.