3. Water the roses while the dog chews the bones

Rosemary said hello to Nicole and was somewhat perplexed at the grin - mischievous, maybe, friendly as well - like she was about to be the subject of some prank. Not that Nicole would ever be capable of such. "Paris", Nicole said, "I'd picture you in Paris, right now! Or swimming in the French Riviera..." and yet again another bizarre smile.

There were two unread e-mails flashing annoyingly on her computer: a message from Dick (really sorry he couldn't come yesterday evening) and another from Nicole. Surprisingly, a joke about men. How men are no better and no smarter than empty tins of sardines, worthless things that, even when you simply want to trash them, will make your fingers dirty or else make them bleed. No special subtext and Rosemary didn't find it that funny, as Nicole's smiling stare seemed to imply. But she laughed out aloud and promised (without ever wanting to keep that promise) that she'd forward it to all her friends so they'd know the real nature of men.

The lingerie she bought, so tantalizing and alluring, ended up with the rest of the laundry. She was so turned on by it - well, not so much by it as for the effect it was bound to produce in men. If not Dick, then in some other guy in the club. Because, let's face it, that's the fundamental difference between men and women: women always know when they're going to have sex; sexy underwear being clear enough invitation for the chosen.

She should've never gotten into Hell's Lair that night. Convinced that she could still preserve the allure of womanhood beyond the age of 30 without having to bend any more rules of seduction, she entered with confidence, wafting nonchalance and overpriced perfume bought at Macy's. Knowing she was willing for sex, knowing she was going to get laid, it was just a matter of choosing the right candidate and let him take the initiative. How else is a woman to preserve herself but in this way - by knowing beforehand she will fuck but letting the man take the initiative and bearing the brunt of incertitude until penetration?

Yet, no candidates seemed suitable for the first hours. And, after a couple more hours and a few piña coladas to give her the courage to further enlarge her criteria of a suitable body and brain to a penis, she ended up talking to the bartender - a devilshly goodlooking guy. But probably gay. Dancing alone and casually allowing for a deeper cleavage (the last concession!) only made her efforts worse.

Oh, how she wished she could be taken savagely and suck some cock without feeling like a whore!

Out of the speakers in Hell's Lair came too appropriately a tango (or maybe not - who in hell is the DJ here?). No more thumping dance music into which she could hide now. And all men were androgynous. Actually, to her eyes, Hell's Lair was turning into a lesbian party. She felt like a woman wearing a full one-piece swimsuit on a naked beach, willing to join in the fun, but coy to take off her suit.

She took a cab home, took her keys out to her apartment, but couldn't find them. She was distracted by a lady walking her dog at this hour of the night, and dumbstruck when she saw the lady open a large black pastic bag with bones and pieces of raw meat in it, which she fed to the salivating dog.

Somehow she thought of Dick. Dick didn't make it this evening; in spite of his promise (which, she knew now, she should never have believed) he stayed with Nicole.

When she climbed the stairs to her apartment door, she could hear the dog chewing obsessively. The noise echoed in her ears; it had the same pace and rythm as the tango in Hell's Lair.

She took a shower - the hot pouring water would enclose her yet again in another world of her own - and decided to go to bed naked. She knew she could never resist the touch of the bedlinen against her bare skin without feeling excited, without having to touch herself. Rosemary shed one last tear and masturbated, plunging all her soul into the wetness between her thighs.

But she still heard the dog gnawing at the bones when she came.