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The Man with the Golden Tongue, Part II

The next month was blissful. It felt as though they spent more time in each other’s arms than out of them. When she could rearrange work, she was with him. When she could rearrange home, she was with him. They did things together she had never heard of before. He took her to heights she didn’t know existed.

And he was so exciting. He made his lucrative living in international finance, jet setting all over the world making deals and making a killing. The world was his oyster and he, its master. She was so honored that he had all this time in his impossible schedule just to make love to her.

One afternoon, as they lay in bed recapturing their breath and absorbing the sound of the pounding rain on the windows, she sensed something had swept in and stolen his mood. He suddenly felt distant, removed, aloof. He tun1ed away from her. She ran her hand along his strong, smooth back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You’ve been taken away from me.” “It’s nothing, nothing with you,” he responded, quietly. “It’s work.” “Oh, my love. Don’t let work steal you from me in our bed.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t. I won’t let it.” He returned to drown in her eyes. “There, the trouble is gone.” They made love again. All was well.

The next aften10011, the trouble was back. He could not seem to break free of the distraction. It seemed to tear at him from some place, well beyond the safety of their tryst.

“What can I do to help you, my love?” she asked of him.

“Oh you beautiful woman. You mustn’t.You can’t. Don’t worry yourself about it again.”

They made love again, but he was not entirely with her. Afte1ward, as he drifted off to sleep, she held him and gazed at him in his fitful slumber. He was troubled, she !mew. She resolved to help, if he would let her. 

When he awoke, she broached the issue. “I can’t let you do it,” he insisted.

“Do what? You haven’t told me what you need. And I want to help you, if I can. My love, we have shared everything a man and a woman can share. We can t least share this,” she entreated.

He finally relented. “One of my deals, a big one, has gone off the rails. everything I’ve invested in it will be lost. I’ve turned everywhere, but I can’t seem b get the rest

of the funds together to pull it off.”

“Money? That’s all that is troubling you? Oh my sweet, sweet man. I w s afraid it was something serious. How much do you need?”

“It’s a $100,000 deal. I have $75,000 of it up. I’m just shy by $25,000.” “My parents left me a little bit of money. I’d be happy to loan it to you.’ He wept for her decency, for her goodness, for her faith in him.

The next morning, she withdrew $25,000 from her inheritance account and brought it to him. They made love with such ferocity she thought he would surely onsume her. Their love was balanced again.

And all was right with the world.

Michael Manely

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