Since the dinner at Jane’s, Desmond had thought about Brian from time to time, usually with bemused annoyance. In one brief fantasy, he and Brian had spent some quality time together, assuming sexually humiliating Brian in his own office could be considered quality time. Fantasy was one thing, but Desmond had never entertained any notions of actually calling him up. When he looked up Brian’s office address in the phone book, it hadn’t been with the intention of dropping by for coffee. One balmy Wednesday a couple of weeks after the dinner at Jane’s, Desmond had driven home from Deerforth via Cambridge and walked past Brian’s office. If you were going to cook up a harmless fantasy—and he’d read somewhere that all fantasies are harmless—it helped to have a few authentic details to use for set design. The building was on a noisy street and the front window was artfully covered with opaque shades, so there’d been no risk of being spotted by or spotting Brian.

“I’ve been fairly busy with your sister,” Desmond said. “We’ve started working on a project together.”

This didn’t impress him. “Mmm. So I’ve heard.” There was a rustling of paper, as if he was unrolling blueprints while cradling the phone against his neck. “Look, I’m just calling to tell you that offer of a tour of the city is still on. You haven’t forgotten, have you, Desmond?”

Desmond hated the condescending tone in his voice when he said his name, and making an attempt at stabbing back, he said, “No, Brian, I haven’t forgotten.” But this, he realized, was seduction through sarcasm, probably the very thing Brian had been hoping to provoke.

“Then give me a call. I’ll give you my number. I’ve got some free time next week, so maybe we can work something out. Have you got a piece of paper there, Desmond?”

“I think so, Brian.”

Later, driving along the Merritt Parkway with a Pauline Anderton tape playing in the background and the Connecticut landscape passing by the windows, he realized he’d forgotten to call Russell and tell him about his change of plans. But stopping in Connecticut and finding his calling card and talking over the roar of passing traffic seemed too taxing. Unlike Desmond, Russell liked surprises.

2.