"How did you know it was me," Greg asked.

"Oh, I'm just telepathic," she giggled.

"Well, tell me if you were telepathic about this," he said. "You have to pack a bag for me. I've been called to Dallas."

"Oh, no, Greg. Not tonight!"

"I'm afraid so, honey. The call came just ten minutes ago. There's an important meeting of branch managers from the larger cities. Speculation is that names are to be mentioned for nominations for three new district managers. Even though I was promoted only yesterday, there's a rumor that I'll be nominated as a possible selection for the future. So… The party will just have to wait. I'll be home in half an hour. Bye."

Janet didn't answer but only listened to the click on the other end of the line. Oh, why, she thought. Nothing ever seems to turn out right. Day and night he was away from her, working and slaving twelve to eighteen hours a day. For the last year he seemed to pay no attention to her, only his job. He should have married the finance company, she thought.

Halfheartedly she walked to the closet, slid open the door and began selecting clothes for him to take. I shouldn't think that, she considered. Greg is working so hard so that we can have a better future. She felt a pang of guilt for being mad at her husband. After all, his last promotion had meant another thirty five hundred dollars a year, and he seemed so enthusiastic about the Dallas meeting. Perhaps she was wrong in being so quick to judge him. His neglect in the bedroom was only from exhaustion, and exhaustion she thought was the result of his loving her. But it had been months… three months since he had touched her.

She stood before the mirror, her robe falling from her shoulders. Her hands cupped her breasts while she examined them carefully in the glass. There are no signs, she thought. Age hasn't come for me yet. For a moment she took a quick inventory of the rest of her body and decided that it was as good as it had ever been, then turned to continue the packing.