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children, a happily married woman. She had no intention of tossing a hot little extramarital affair just to relieve the boredom of—
    Boredom.
    The word stopped her cold. She was bored, she’d been bored all day, she was so damned bored she was ready to go out of her mind. But Christ above, she wasn’t bored enough to be a damned fool, wasn’t sufficiently staggered by stagnancy to have a highland fling with Ted Carr. Nothing could interest her less. Nothing. Why, she loved Howard, she worshipped him, he was everything she wanted in a husband—
    Methinks, a voice said, the lady doth protest too much.
    She was troubled. She went on being troubled when Ted went on with his pass-tossing. He made it a little more physical while she was getting a tray ready with coffee and sandwiches after the bridge game was done for the evening. Ted managed to pass through the kitchen on the way to the john, and he managed to be so crude that it was frightening. He came up behind her almost before she knew he was there, slipped an arm around, her, grabbed hold of a breast—
    She whirled around.
    And he was smiling. “No sense being silly about this,” he said, calmly and levelly. “I’m going to get in your pants. I want you and you want it as much as I do.”
    “I do not!”
    “You will.”
    She felt her temper coming to a boil. “You bastard,” she snapped. “I’m in love with Howard!”
    “What’s love got to do with it?”
    She simply stared at him.
    “I’m going to lay you,” he went on. “And you’re going to love it. I’m going to take you on a neat little ride to the moon, Nan-O. And love hasn’t got a goddamn thing to do with it. I don’t want to love you, Nan-O. I just want to lay you.”
    And then, infuriatingly, he had touched her breast again. She pushed his hand away and his other hand moved to stroke her below, insinuatingly. The hand was gone in an instant. And Ted Carr was leaving the kitchen, light laughter on his lips.
    They drank their coffee, ate their sandwiches. The Carrs left. Nan thought once again that Elly was incredibly unfortunate to be married to such a Grade-A son of a bitch as Ted Carr. And then she banished Ted Carr from her mind for the night.
    Not entirely, however.
    She and Howard made love that night. They undressed, and washed up, and brushed their teeth. Nan pulled out the alarm button on the electric clock while Howard got his attaché case in order for the morning’s trip to the office. Then, the chores out of the way, they slipped under the covers into each other’s arms.
    Their lovemaking was slow, gentle, tender. It was the coming-together of two very familiar bodies, two bodies which had grown quite used to one another. It was tender, and it was sweet, and it was very meaningful. They moved together, slowly, questingly, and they reached fulfillment together, and they lay close together for several minutes before Howard rolled over to fall asleep.
    There was only one thing wrong. It was something that may have been present before in their lovemaking; if so, Nan had never been aware of it in the past. Tonight, though, she was aware of it. The awareness was not at all pleasant, not remotely pleasant. It was, as a matter of fact, thoroughly unpleasant.
    Their lovemaking was monotonous.
    Not without sparkle, not without drive, not without zest, not without satisfaction.
    But without surprise. Totally without surprise.
    She knew everything Howard was going to do before he did it. She could lie back and anticipate every caress, every kiss, every stroke and pat and pinch. She could, also, anticipate her own reaction to each caress, her own corresponding and answering caress. The whole affair, from beginning to end, was eminently predictable. It followed the pattern that had already been established in the course of years of marriage.
    Thus it was monotonous.
    She would not have noticed this if it had not been for Ted Carr. His overtures, majestically subtle at the bridge table and