your face. I know that look. It
comes when you let go of your South Carolina inhibitions. But does your stud
get you to strip and dance on the bed, or twirl a jock strap between your
teeth, or kneel at his feet and slither your way slowly up the length of his
naked body?"
Andrea looked
at Jerry, stunned. She couldn't deny doing those things, and much more. And she
couldn't imagine doing them with any man but Jerry. Why it was that way, she
couldn't explain. Just that it was. Lifting her chin, she said, with an air of
calm, self-assurance, "My relationship with Alessandro is on a much deeper
level."
Jerry's loud
laugh had heads turning their way. He gave the onlookers a contrite smile, then
said to Andrea, in a sober tone, "If you haven't figured it out yet, sweetheart , the man will go as deep as
your pockets will allow."
Andrea
bristled. "And I know for a fact that Alessandro appreciates me as a
woman, and you can't stand the thought of that."
"Keep
believing whatever you want," Jerry said. "But while you're living in
La La Land, you might ask yourself if Alessandro
Cavallaro would have given you a second glance if he'd passed you in a grocery
aisle. Then ask yourself the same question if he saw you pulling your BMW up to
Daddy Ellison's twenty-two-room mansion in Mt. Pleasant."
Thoroughly
miffed by Jerry's condescending attitude, Andrea said, "Not every man is
after me because of my father's money. You noticed me my first day at college
when I was wearing my roommate's old jeans and tee-shirt because my bags hadn't
arrived and you thought I was a poor college coed who didn't have two dimes to
rub together."
"Hell,
Andrea, that was twenty-five years ago. You're not nineteen anymore, and
Cavallaro's a man in his prime who's at least ten years younger than you."
"Many
younger men in their prime like older women," Andrea huffed, struggling to
maintain her composure, determined not to become defensive.
Jerry let out a
short guffaw. "Sure they do, as long as those older women have money. Take
a look around at the single women aboard. Any one of a dozen in this room have
more going for them for a man in his prime than you. But Cavallaro's not just a
man in his prime. He's a gigolo, which eliminates all the hot little numbers
ready to crawl into his bed, and narrows the playing field to you and a
half-dozen other older women aboard. Compared to them, sure he'd rather have
you in his bed while picking your pocket. You're still reasonably good-looking
for a middle-aged woman."
Hand gripping
her water glass, Andrea was primed to hurl its contents in Jerry's face when
the Danforths arrived.
Lillian
Danforth looked from one to the other, and said, "I hope we're not
interrupting something."
"Actually,
you're just in time," Andrea said. "Jerry and I were having a
disagreement about the way society views a relationship between an older woman
and a younger man, as compared to an older man and a woman young enough to be
his daughter. When it's an older woman, it's assumed she has money. But when
it's an older man—"
"Andrea's
touchy about her age," Jerry said, cutting her off. "But I think we
can all agree she's not bad for a woman pushing fifty."
"Forty-five,"
Andrea corrected.
"Pushing
forty-five then," Jerry said. "At least I find her attractive."
Lillian
Danforth smiled. "So does that tall young Italian I saw her with earlier,
which, I assume, was what prompted the disagreement."
Jerry eyed
Andrea, and said, "She got a little testy when I brought it up. But I was
warning her about gigolos. An attractive older woman travelling alone is a
prime target."
"Yes, I
imagine she is," Lillian replied. "I'm sure Andrea is aware of it
though." She looked at Andrea and waited.
Andrea laughed
lightly. "I have my Frommer's Guide along," she said. "I know all about gigolos and purse snatchers and
walking alone at night, and all the other dangers lurking out there, so there's
no reason for anyone to worry." She shot one last glare at
comes when you let go of your South Carolina inhibitions. But does your stud
get you to strip and dance on the bed, or twirl a jock strap between your
teeth, or kneel at his feet and slither your way slowly up the length of his
naked body?"
Andrea looked
at Jerry, stunned. She couldn't deny doing those things, and much more. And she
couldn't imagine doing them with any man but Jerry. Why it was that way, she
couldn't explain. Just that it was. Lifting her chin, she said, with an air of
calm, self-assurance, "My relationship with Alessandro is on a much deeper
level."
Jerry's loud
laugh had heads turning their way. He gave the onlookers a contrite smile, then
said to Andrea, in a sober tone, "If you haven't figured it out yet, sweetheart , the man will go as deep as
your pockets will allow."
Andrea
bristled. "And I know for a fact that Alessandro appreciates me as a
woman, and you can't stand the thought of that."
"Keep
believing whatever you want," Jerry said. "But while you're living in
La La Land, you might ask yourself if Alessandro
Cavallaro would have given you a second glance if he'd passed you in a grocery
aisle. Then ask yourself the same question if he saw you pulling your BMW up to
Daddy Ellison's twenty-two-room mansion in Mt. Pleasant."
Thoroughly
miffed by Jerry's condescending attitude, Andrea said, "Not every man is
after me because of my father's money. You noticed me my first day at college
when I was wearing my roommate's old jeans and tee-shirt because my bags hadn't
arrived and you thought I was a poor college coed who didn't have two dimes to
rub together."
"Hell,
Andrea, that was twenty-five years ago. You're not nineteen anymore, and
Cavallaro's a man in his prime who's at least ten years younger than you."
"Many
younger men in their prime like older women," Andrea huffed, struggling to
maintain her composure, determined not to become defensive.
Jerry let out a
short guffaw. "Sure they do, as long as those older women have money. Take
a look around at the single women aboard. Any one of a dozen in this room have
more going for them for a man in his prime than you. But Cavallaro's not just a
man in his prime. He's a gigolo, which eliminates all the hot little numbers
ready to crawl into his bed, and narrows the playing field to you and a
half-dozen other older women aboard. Compared to them, sure he'd rather have
you in his bed while picking your pocket. You're still reasonably good-looking
for a middle-aged woman."
Hand gripping
her water glass, Andrea was primed to hurl its contents in Jerry's face when
the Danforths arrived.
Lillian
Danforth looked from one to the other, and said, "I hope we're not
interrupting something."
"Actually,
you're just in time," Andrea said. "Jerry and I were having a
disagreement about the way society views a relationship between an older woman
and a younger man, as compared to an older man and a woman young enough to be
his daughter. When it's an older woman, it's assumed she has money. But when
it's an older man—"
"Andrea's
touchy about her age," Jerry said, cutting her off. "But I think we
can all agree she's not bad for a woman pushing fifty."
"Forty-five,"
Andrea corrected.
"Pushing
forty-five then," Jerry said. "At least I find her attractive."
Lillian
Danforth smiled. "So does that tall young Italian I saw her with earlier,
which, I assume, was what prompted the disagreement."
Jerry eyed
Andrea, and said, "She got a little testy when I brought it up. But I was
warning her about gigolos. An attractive older woman travelling alone is a
prime target."
"Yes, I
imagine she is," Lillian replied. "I'm sure Andrea is aware of it
though." She looked at Andrea and waited.
Andrea laughed
lightly. "I have my Frommer's Guide along," she said. "I know all about gigolos and purse snatchers and
walking alone at night, and all the other dangers lurking out there, so there's
no reason for anyone to worry." She shot one last glare at
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