Eddie knew just how she felt. There's nothing worse than frustration.

"I'm sorry I said anything," she said suddenly. "You must think I'm…"

"No, it's all right. I'm not a marriage counselor just a tennis coach."

"David doesn't even know I exist, half the time," she sighed ignoring him, turning to look out the window again.

"So that's the problem, he ignores you…" he prompted wanting to get to the bottom of the matter.

"He doesn't want to do it very often. His idea of keeping me happy is to do it a couple of times a week," she said miserably still looking out the window.

"And you want it more often," he queried.

"Well, God. It seems to me to be unnatural to have such a low sex-drive," she said matter-of-factly.

Eddie laughed out loud. A hard bitter laugh which startled and confused her. She jerked her head around to look at him in a wide eyed consternation.

"I don't think it's funny."

"Please believe me when I tell you, I know. How well I know! It's amazing. What a rotten coincidence!"

"Coincidence?"

"Yes… we're in the same boat."

"I don't follow you."

"Alyce is just like David."

"I see." She dropped her gaze again, afraid that she had gone too far in revealing to him an intimate fact of her married life to a comparative stranger.

Then Eddie reached out, on impulse, his huge paw settling on her bare knee, gently. The smooth, tanned flesh was warm to his hand, inviting him and tantalizing him with its warm promise.

She looked up at him, startled, as his hand massaged the inner part of her knee and began to move upward an inch or so along the soft, smooth flesh of the inside of her thigh.

"Mr. Frampton! I hope you don't think that because I told you about David that I'd… I'd…" she gasped, at a loss for words, her legs clamping together, but the big hand was trapped between her thighs still trying to move upward toward her cunt.