The Cradle Robbers Read Online Free PDF Page B

experiencing had nothing to do with his immaturity.
    “I just have to ask this question,” Katherine, our resident lesbian, said suddenly. “How often do you guys, you know . . . do it?”
    The women all laughed, and a few groaned. We’d all had this conversation before. Whenever women gather to talk, the topic inevitably bubbles to the surface. The deep, dark, not-so-secret secret of contemporary American marriage is that nobody is having any sex.
    “We’ve had sex three times,” Kristina said.
    “This
week
?” I asked, stunned. I didn’t know anybody who was having sex three times a week. Those were pre-kid numbers.
    “No. Three times. That I can remember. Donovan,Bianca, and Trenton. Three kids, three times. That’s it.” She didn’t look like she was kidding.
    “Has anybody actually tried making a date for sex like all the magazines suggest?” Lucy asked. Lucy is another mom I met on the circuit. Our daughters are in the same class, and she has a son a year younger than Isaac. Lucy is one of those beautiful Los Angeles women who manage within weeks of giving birth to be back in their hip-hugger jeans and midriff-baring tops. I hate her.
    “Yeah, right,” Frances said. “Date night. Give me a break. That’s invariably the night the cat decides to vomit in our bed or one of the kids has a four-hour temper tantrum. Or the baby-sitter’s husband gets arrested and she needs to go to Riverside to bail him out. Date night never happens. And anyway, the problem isn’t
making time
for sex. The problem is
wanting
sex.”
    Katherine said, “I don’t have a sex drive. But neither does Amy, so we don’t really have a problem. That’s one of the many nice things about being a lesbian. Bed death is a mutually agreed-upon phenomenon.”
    Rachel said, “Well, that’s certainly not true in my house. Ben never stops complaining about it. Never.It’s become a running gag with him. If I hear one more joke about hookers, I’m going to kill him.”
    “Do you know,” Kristina said, “the other night we were out with two couples for dinner and one of the men actually made some crack about how the guys ought to all get together and split the cost of a prostitute. They talked about it for ages. Where they’d get her, who would go first. I finally had to tell them to shut up. They were pretending to be kidding around, but I’m not the only one who sensed more than a dash of seriousness in the conversation.”
    “The danger is always there,” Stacey said, her eyes fixed to the maki roll she held delicately between vermilion-polished nails. Stacey and her husband were back together again, but they have been separated more than once. Andy strays, usually with a younger and less accomplished version of his wife. It’s not hard to figure out that he finds Stacey intimidating, that her beauty and success emasculate him to some degree. Men like Andy are made uncomfortable, even frightened, by a woman’s intelligence. I read a study once that showed that for men there is a 35 percent increase in the likelihood of marriage for each 16-point rise in their IQ. Forwomen, there is a 40 percent drop for each 16-point increase. Obviously Andy isn’t alone in desiring a bimbo.
    Stacey’s warning cast a momentary pall over the group. Jeannie, who is a few years younger than the rest of us, spoke up. “Our sex life is still pretty terrific,” she said.
    “You don’t have children,” Kristina reminded her.
    A pretty rose stain spread across the young woman’s cheeks. “We will soon,” she said. “I’m pregnant.”
    “Well then kiss your libido good-bye.”
    That’s what we were giving her in lieu of congratulations? “Oh, Kristina,” I said. “It’s not necessarily true. I was voracious when I was pregnant. After I got over all the throwing up. And before the reflux and the hemorrhoids really kicked in. I wanted it all the time!”
    Katherine said, “When was that, exactly? When you had no nausea, reflux,