I was being offered the gift I'd so desperately wanted, but not in a way I could feel good about accepting. She knew me well enough to know that, so this proposition of hers was nothing but selfish and mean.She went eerily calm then, locked eyes with me and said in a quiet, sultry, matter-of-fact tone, "Look, Hale: you know I'm not happy in my marriage. You also know I'm attracted to you. And I know you're attracted to me, too. This heat between us is real, and it turns me on, and I don't feel like denying it anymore." At that last bit, she dropped her eyes noticeably to stare at my mouth. As if she was just barely keeping herself from kissing me full and hard on the lips. Dammit, she knew how to push my buttons.But what she didn't know was that my attraction to her went beyond platonic friendship, and beyond flirtatious sexual attraction. I had feelings for her, and this cheap come-on was pissing me off. I was jealous of her husband. I was still sad about my divorce. I was. I decided I was not going to eat my heart out over anybody. Let somebody eat his heart out over me, if that's the way it had to be.There were plenty of Hack Raver's around, and if I did not want it that way particularly, there was always Joe Cunningham, or maybe the answer was a good old comfortable collie like Clyde. Was I leaving something out?I was still young, only twenty-eight, and what's more, I looked good. There was nothing to criticize about the reflection I saw in the mirror.It wasn't the reflection that counted. It was what was inside my brain. What was in there that I could not see? What memories of dreams were stored in those cells that I had never been permitted to remember?Once in New York City I had gone to see the ballet. A particular prima ballerina had done a dance so exquisitely well it had sent chills up and down my spine. I had turned my head at that moment and had noticed the person seated on my right, a young girl of about sixteen, had been similarly.
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