“But I don’t want to move. It’s not fair.”

Well, this wasn’t going well, I thought to myself. My company had offered me a promotion, but it meant moving to DC in a few months.

“The kids like their school. I like this neighborhood.”

OK, I had to think of some other way to make this sound good, but I couldn’t really think of any. “How about you and I go up and look at houses next week? We’ll get the feel of the land and see if there is anything we like.”

“That won’t work. What will we do with the kids?” She asked.

“I bet I can get my sister to watch them.” I answered. Well, at least that was all I could think of as I was standing there. The rest of the week didn’t go a whole lot better, but my sister did come down to watch the kids. Diane and I drove up on a Sunday afternoon so we could start looking the next day.

I’d even arranged for us to stay in a pretty nice place. A buddy of mine from college had a huge townhouse down by Dupont Circle. It was one of those older, ritzy places that is only a couple of blocks from the White House, and every other neighbor has gobs of money. It was a little outside our price range, but it was really nice. Mark, the owner, was a lawyer at one of those Washington power brokers that is on the take from every major corporation that wants something from its local congressman.

The congressional schmoozing paid well, but the hours sucked. He was always off to some conference or another and put in those 60-hour weeks. That was probably the reason his wife left him after three years. Money can’t buy everything, but it did buy a really nice place. He was off for the whole week lining the coffers of Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe by getting the congressional delegation of New Hampshire to agree to some sort of federal subsidy for maple sugar candy. Or at least that’s what he told me. It didn’t really matter to us as long as he let us borrow his place.

I pushed open the front door and we sort of peered in like kids in someplace we knew we shouldn’t be. The damn place was bigger than our house and was three stories high.

“Very nice,” Diane remarked. “I’ll take one of these.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” was all I could retort. We walked slowly through the halls past the kitchen that looked like you could roast an ox in, up the stairs past the study to the top floor where the guest room was. It was nicely done, probably by some hired interior decorator.

Mark didn’t have taste nearly this good. Everything was neatly arranged, probably by some cleaning lady who came by once a week. I did notice that all the pictures of Mark and his wife and kid were gone. He’d still had some the last time I’d visited, but it had been over a year since she’d left.

“Hey, come look at this.” I heard from down the hall. I headed for the sound and found Diane standing in the middle of what must have been the master bedroom. A cherry king bed sat in the middle of a rather sizeable room that had pale blue walls and long curtains. A mirror covered one wall opposite a set of bureaus that had to be antiques. Diane walked up to the bed and ran her hand across the navy satin sheets. She giggled and flopped on top.

“Want to do me?”

“Come on, get up, that’s not where we are supposed to sleep. Get off the man’s bed,” I sort of wailed.

“Spoil sport.”

She actually looked disappointed. We finished unpacking and went out for a bite at one of those trendy bistro places that isn’t really any better than McDonald’s, but cost ten times as much. When we got back to the house, we found his bar. I had to admit it was very well stocked. In fact, it had everything needed to make a Long Island Iced Tea.

After the first drink, I was feeling a bit more relaxed as we sat on the couch. I leaned over and kissed her gently. She responded with one of those soft, warm kisses that make the back of my neck warm. I could smell the hint of her perfume behind her ear as I traced my lips gently down her neck to the area next to her collarbone. A little nibble there, and she arched her head back and sort of sighed.

She took my hand and pulled me to my feet.

“Want to go upstairs?”

Damn right I did. We scurried up like two horny teenagers whose parents were out. Diane went over to the suitcase and got out some clothes and went into the bathroom. I slid out of my jeans and kicked off my shoes. I stopped to look when the door opened. She’d put on a blue camisole that came with these awesome little blue panties. Little spaghetti straps covered her shoulders that were just next to her blond hair hanging down to her neck. The best part was that the camisole did nothing to cover her long legs, and there was just a hint of ass.

If I had known how to whistle, I certainly would have. She handed me my toothbrush and said, “I don’t plan on getting out of bed once I get in.”

That was fine with me. I went to spit and finish while she waited. I came back out, but the bed was empty. OK, where is she? I looked out in the hall and headed for the light at the end of the hall. What was she up to? I came to the room we’d been in earlier, only now the comforter was pulled back, and my wife was sitting in it.