"Wilson, F Paul - adversary 3 - The Touch" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilson F. Paul)

Yes, he decided. Definitely. In all their years of marriage he had never cheated
on her. Never even come close despite a good number of opportunities. But
SylviaЕ God, he was attracted to her! She was beautiful, but it was more than
that. Beneath all her glittery posing there was a person he feared he could love
if he let his feelings have their way.
Yet although he had shared no more than a handshake with the woman, he couldn't
help but look on his feelings toward Sylvia as a kind of betrayal of Ginny. It
was unfounded, but it plagued him. You can't help the way you feel, he always
told himself; you're only responsible for what you do with those feelings.
"I still don't see why you always insist on defending her, though," Ginny was
saying.
"Jeffy makes up for a multitude of sins, whatever they are."
"That strange little boy she took in?"
"Yeah. Only she didn't just take him inЧshe adopted him. That's a lifelong
commitment. She gets a big drawing account of goodwill with me for that."
"Well, whatever," Ginny said, skittering away from the subject of adoption and
suddenly becoming bubbly. "At least it will be an experience to see that house."
He tried to think of some way out of the party but saw it was useless. Ginny was
off and running at the mouth.
"Wait'll I tell Josie and Terri! They'll die! They'll be green! Positively
green!" She threw her arms around his neck. "This is perfect! Absolutely
perfect!"
She kissed him. He kissed her back. And soon he was pulling her robe open and
she was unbuttoning his shirt, and then they were together on the bed and into
the positions and rhythms they had found comfortable and pleasurable over the
years of their marriage.
When it was over, Alan lay beside Ginny, content and sated but a little
disturbed by the knowledge that a couple of times during their lovemaking he had
found his mind wandering to Sylvia Nash. That had never happened before and he
didn't like it. It was like cheating. He knew all about fantasies during sex,
but that was for other people, not him.
"Nice."
"That it was," Ginny said as she rolled away from him. "Mind if I turn on the
tv? I want to see who's on Letterman tonight."
"Go ahead."
He went downstairs and got a Foster's from the refrigerator. The cold beer felt
good going down. He finished it off as he wandered through the first floor,
shutting off lights and locking windows. A lot of wasted space. The two-story
brick colonial was really too big for just the two of them, but Ginny had
refused to settle for anything smaller.
Finally he got back to the bed where a stack of journals waited on his night
table. It was getting almost impossible to stay current with the new
developments in all the fields his practice touched on every day. But he kept
plugging, reading a little every night, no matter how tired he was. Still, he
knew the cutting edge of medicine was slipping a little farther away each year.
He felt like an overboard sailor, swimming for his life, and yet seeing the
lights of his ship steadily fading farther and farther away into the night.
Ginny had fallen asleep with the tv on. Alan turned it off with the remote
button and retrieved the latest issue of Chest from the night table. But he let
it lie unopened on his lap. His mind was not on medicine but on how it used to