."He was interrupted by the bong of the doorbell, and Harold charged heavyfooted up the basement stairs."That should be my pizza," he called back over...his shoulder. "Moira, gimme some money for the pizza man!" You just had pizza yesterday," Cynthia heard her mother complain from the far reaches of the upstairs. "Oh, well. My purse is on the piano bench. Don't tip him more than a dollar."The doorbell bonged again before Harold got there. It was raining, the kind of steady downpour that Portland. My wife was standing at the door with her hair wet and in her robe. My wife asked: “I didn’t hear a car pull up. How did you get home?” Not wanting to let her know that I had watched her fuck Raj I told her: “Kamal dropped me off at the street and I walked down the drive to the house.” She came over and gave me a long wet kiss. I felt that she didn’t have any underwear on and I undid the robe and she let it fall to the floor. I took her to the bedroom. She striped my clothes off and kissed me. More

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