Out of respect for the fine women of the Heights, I’ll refrain from sharing the names of the most desired. But it was a curious mix of the older/highbrow and the younger/funky. As the conversation went on, I found it odd that a certain someone had not been mentioned. Offhandedly, I brought up in my best oh-by-the-way tone, “What about Philip Ashworth’s wife?”

The Weasel turned toward me, bared his beaver teeth, and said, “Don’t kid yourself, Welch. She’s completely out of your league.”

Loud, manly laughs. Another round of beers.

The other newcomer—an unassuming man on all counts—had said nothing up to this point. With his pale skin, tortoiseshell eyeglasses, and an ill-fitting dark blue sport coat, he looked like the kind of man who’d played too much chess as a kid.

The Weasel asked if the Newcomer had anything he’d like to add.

“Why, yes. I’m reminded of a guy I know.”

I was grateful this man was speaking. It took the pressure off me.

“For our purposes, let’s call him the Happily Married Man.”

The other men turned and listened in.

“The Happily Married Man doesn’t like to travel, because he hates to be away from his wife and kids. This man loves his wife the way one should love one’s wife. But he has to make a living. So he goes on a business trip to a major American city. He and an associate are going out for dinner, as they’ve just closed a major deal. The Happily Married Man will be going home in the morning. He’s feeling great. He’s taken care of business. He’s in the shower, lathering up his body with soap, shampooing his hair, when his cell phone rings. He steps out of the shower, answers the phone, and his business associate says, ‘Don’t leave your room. I’m sending over a gift.’

“The man finishes showering. He slips on the nice terry-cloth robe the hotel provides. At eight on the dot, a knock comes on his door. He opens the door, and the most beautiful woman he has ever seen is standing in the doorway. She is a knockout. Perfect skin, exquisite breasts, a tattoo of thorns around her ankle. She asks if he’d like her to come in.”

All of us stopped midchew while the Newcomer took a sip of seltzer.

The Weasel couldn’t stand it: “Keep going.”

Newcomer: “Well, the Happily Married Man invites her in and proceeds to have unbelievable, astonishing, best-ever sex with this woman. They do it in the bed, in the shower, on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, in every position imaginable. He comes so many times, he loses count. He comes so much, he wonders if there’s any come left inside him.”