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“Well… yeah.”
“But it shouldn’t be that way! If he cares for me, how can he be interested in all those other women?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Jaine replied. “The one-eyed snake has no taste.”
“Sweetheart,” Marci said, her smoker’s voice as kind as she could make it, “if you’re looking for Mr. Perfect, you’re going to spend your whole life being disappointed, because he doesn’t exist. You have to get the best deal you can, but there will always be problems.”
“I know he isn’t perfect, but—”
“But you want him to be,” T.J. finished.
Jaine shook her head. “Isn’t going to happen,” she announced. “The perfect man is pure science fiction. Not that we’re perfect, either,” she added, “but most women do at least try. Men don’t try. That’s why I gave up on them. Relationships just don’t work out for me.” She paused, then said thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t mind having a sex slave, though.”
The other three burst out laughing, even Luna.
“I could get into that,” Marci said. “I wonder where I can get one?”
“Try Sexslaves-R-Us,” T.J. suggested, and they dissolved into laughter again.
“There’s probably a Web site,” Luna said, choking a little.
“Of course there is.” Jaine was totally deadpan. “It’s on my Favorites list: www.sexslaves.com.”
“Just type in your requirements and you can rent Mr. Perfect by the hour or the day.” T.J. waved her glass of beer, carried away with enthusiasm.
“A day? Get real.” Jaine hooted. “An hour is asking for a miracle.”
“Besides, there is no Mr. Perfect, remember?” Marci said.
“Not a real one, no, but a sex slave would have to pretend to be exactly what you wanted, wouldn’t he?”
Marci was never without her soft leather briefcase. She opened it and dug out a pad of paper and a pen, slapping them down on the table. “He most certainly would. Let’s see, what would Mr. Perfect be like?”
“He’d have to do the dishes half the time without being asked,” T.J. said, slapping her hand down on the table and drawing curious looks their way.
When they managed to stop laughing long enough to be coherent, Marci scribbled on her pad. “Okay, number one: Do the dishes.”
“No, hey, doing the dishes can’t be number one,” Jaine protested. “We have more serious issues to address first.”
“Yeah,” Luna said. “Seriously. What do we think a perfect man would be like? I’ve never thought about it in those terms. Maybe it would help if I had it clear in my mind what I like in a man.”
They all paused. “The perfect man? Seriously?” Jaine wrinkled her nose.
“Seriously.”
“This is going to take some thinking,” Marci
pronounced.
“Not for me,” T.J. said, the laughter fading from her face. “The most important thing is that he wants the same things out of life that you do.”
They lapsed into a little pond of silence. The attention their laughter had gotten from the diners at the surrounding tables moved on to more promising targets.
“Wants the same things out of life,” Marci repeated as she wrote it down. “That’s number one? Are we agreed?”
“That’s important,” Jaine said. “But I’m not sure it’s number one.”
“Then what’s number one for you?”
