“Close the door,” she said, so you did.

She looked uncomfortable. “So you did the Program, right?”

“Yeah,” you said sarcastically. What the fuck was this about? Did she think you were so hard up after the Program? Maybe she just wanted to hear about it.

“I’ve been, ah, reading up on it,” she said. She was blushing. She was always so cocky, it was weird to see her blush. “Guys react differently. Some…”

“Yeah?”

“Take off your shirt,” she said in a strained voice.

“Oh, this is bullshit,” you said, and you turned away to the door.

Rhonda sucked in her breath, and there was a little tremor in it, like she’d been hit and she was going to cry. And that stopped you for a moment. And then you were thinking about that sound and what it would sound like, Rhonda coming. She had a lean, prim face, and you thought of all the looks you’d seen on it—irritated, bored, skeptical, and vaguely amused, laughing with the other women. But what would it be like out of control—eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in an “O,” begging for more?

What the fuck were you thinking? You had Jill.

But under the fluorescent lights on the maroon carpet, with your hand on the thin aluminum door handle, Jill seemed like a dream. Manhattan and Cindy Crawford. She’s just playing with you, man—and any minute now the joke will be up and ice cream on the twentieth floor on the Upper West Side will vanish like smoke.

And Rhonda was here now, clearing her throat to call it all a joke or throw you out of her office, and there was still that tremor in it, like Rhonda was scared and uncertain, and that shouldn’t be—a woman shouldn’t be scared and uncertain around you, she should be happy, she should be on fire with joy. Rhonda was a vessel bearing her own portion of white light.

You turned around and started unbuttoning your shirt.

“Oh my God,” Rhonda said.

“I can’t believe it,” Rhonda said. She raised herself up onto her elbows. She was on the desk, one foot on the swiveling chair, the other hooked over your back. She’d knocked a pile of papers off the desk. You leaned back, your face hot and wet from her cunt. You were kneeling on the floor and your knees hurt. “I can’t believe I did this.”