I stepped into the kitchen doorway and, for the third time tonight, witnessed sex as I’d never seen it before. My eyes widened. I almost stopped breathing. Sonja was sitting on a chair with her legs around Walter’s neck. So far, so good. Walter was on his hands and knees, jerking himself off with one hand. No surprise there. The tricky, heart-stopping, world-wrecking part was Beatrice, who was bent over Walter’s back, slowly humping his ass with that black strap-on dildo. In and out she stroked, moving as expertly as she had with Sonja, but with a more leisurely, almost luxurious stroke. Not only hadn’t I ever seen anything like this, I’d never even imagined it was possible. I guess I was more innocent than I wanted to admit.

Beatrice saw me standing there, smiled, and then bent her finger in a “come here” gesture. Before I had been stunned. Now I was horrified. I stepped backward, turned, and almost ran back down the hallway.

The guest bedroom was a mess of rumpled sheets, wet spots, and condom packages. In the air hung the aroma of sweat, perfume, and sex. Robinette had disappeared into a bathroom. I slipped on my pants and T-shirt and sat on the bed feeling numb. I decided to do something normal. I went into the living room, sat down, and messed around with the remote, hoping to find the Super Bowl and try to blank out what I’d just seen. It was the fourth quarter, and the Titans were mounting a comeback led by quarterback Steve McNair. It was shaping up to be a memorable effort; commentators predicted this could be one of the greatest endings of all time. But obviously, the game, no matter who won, wouldn’t be what I’d remember about tonight.

To my surprise Beatrice, in panties and an open robe, walked in and sat down on the sofa beside me. She wanted to know the score.

“The Rams are winning, but the Titans are making a game of it,” I said. “You like football?”

“A little. I watch it at the club with customers. It gives men something to talk about. But I find it too violent.”

“Sometimes,” I suggested, “a little violence is good?”

“A little pain, yes,” she replied. “But not violence.”