Who's Afraid of Stan Snodgrass?

He also played up to Gunther. This only partially was as punishment to Madge. He, in fact, wanted Gunther to know he could have him again. What Gunther had done had brought back memories to Dillon of a time of greater sexual fulfillment than he had gotten from Madge in the short time they'd been married. Sex with her had been better—enhanced by being forbidden—when they were having their affair, than it was afterward, when they were married.

Madge maintained her distant mood and downcast eyes after they'd entered the car for the short drive back to their house.

"Aren't you going to ask me whether—?" Dillon started to ask as he pulled the car away from the curb.

"No," she fairly spat out, turning her head to the passenger window. "I could see that you managed."

"And you don't have anything to say? No word of thanks?"

"Yes, of course, thanks," she shot back. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a splitting headache and I'd rather not engage in silly chit-chat on the way home."

Dillon shrugged and turned his attention to the road. He actually thought the evening had gone quite well. Madge's behavior now only enhanced the glow he still felt from Gunther Strang's attentions. This just added to his resolve to see Gunther privately again when the chance arose. He was pleased that Gunther had suggested it, and he hadn't hesitated to agree to it.

And he didn't really give a fuck if Madge got tenure or not. He had the distinct feeling that they wouldn't last much longer as a couple regardless and then he didn't give a shit where she went. She was just a user.

* * * *

Sondra and Gunther Strang stood at one of the cottage's living room windows looking out onto the street and watched Dillon and Madge drive away. Gunther had an arm around Sondra's waist, which is as close as he'd gotten to her in several days and was as close as he would get to her for several more. Both were smiling, their eyes were blazing, and they were humming the same tune softly.

"Did you enjoy him?" Sondra asked.

"Yes, of course. He's quite a luscious piece. And he must have enjoyed it too. He said he'd be happy to do it again anytime we could arrange it. And you. Did you get into Madge's panties?"

"You know I did. Probably not as enjoyable an encounter as you had—she was stiff at first and held back until I spelled out the tenure issue with her. Then she was fine. Moody afterward, as you could see when you returned."

"So, are you going to support her for tenure with your father? It continues to amaze me that these faculty people don't understand the control you have over your father—and that neither Madge nor Stan Snodgrass seem to realize that the route to currying favor for tenure here doesn't arrive at me—that it's in the hands of Clifton McMillan and goes through you."

"I don't know yet whether or not I'll support her over Stan Snodgrass. Madge is ambitious and has a great body, but she's a grasping bitch—and a cold one at that, during the act. Stan and his wife are coming for dinner on Thursday night. I know it will be a dull evening for you, being forced to discuss French Romanticism with that blowhard Stan all evening, but his wife is quite a sweet little thing. If she is as accessible to another woman as campus rumor has it, Thursday might just be Stan Snodgrass' lucky day."