And whether she’d realized it before or not, she was getting sucked into Charlie. She should have been delighted that all they talked about was the show and sex. That’s what she wanted. A nice, uncomplicated, unemotional affair. Except that wasn’t enough anymore. She’d gotten exactly what she’d asked for, and it wasn’t enough, and she wasn’t going to be able to get more because he didn’t want more: he was leaving in November.

There it was, the thought she’d been ignoring all week. November. He was leaving in November. And no matter how hopeful she was, she knew how stubborn he was. Come November, unless she did something amazing, she was going to be left with an empty broadcast booth and an empty bed.

She wasn’t sure she didn’t have an empty bed already. If all they were was great sex, it was definitely an empty bed.

She tried to push the whole thing from her mind and went to get coffee. Her thoughts were depressing, and they got worse when Mark followed her into the break room.

“Allie!” The delight in his voice was mirrored on his face. He must want something, she told herself. He was never that happy to see anybody unless they could do something for him.

She steeled herself for the come-on. “What do you want?”

Mark spread his hands out, the picture of innocence. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Allie frowned at him. “Why?”

Mark put his hand on her arm. “I just miss you so much.”

“Why? Did Lisa leave you?” She turned away from him and went over to the coffee urn, trying not to think about Charlie leaving her.

Mark followed her. “Allie, it’s not the same. She’s not you.”

Allie laughed shortly. “No, she’s ten years younger and twenty pounds lighter. And it’s only taken you two months to notice.” Allie turned back to him, her coffee in hand. “I talked to her Saturday at the remote. She’s looking pretty frazzled, Mark. Cut her a break. She’s still learning the job. Charlie’s in the same spot.” She stopped, realizing that while Charlie might be in the same spot, he was doing brilliantly. Not a good comparison for Lisa.

Mark moved closer. “Forget about Charlie. Let’s go have dinner somewhere and talk.”

Allie ducked around him and headed for the door. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

Mark caught her arm, and she turned to see him with a soulful look on his face. “Let’s have dinner. A long dinner.”

Allie pulled her hand away, trying to compute what she’d just heard. “What?”

“I think we should see more of each other. A lot more, if you know what I mean.” Mark moved closer, backing her against the wall. “We were good together, Allie.”

Allie looked at him in amazement. “Are you kidding? We were lousy together. Are you propositioning me? I can’t believe it.” She shook her head. “You’re propositioning me. No.” She turned and opened the door and came face-to-face with Charlie.

“I was looking for you,” he said to her. He glared at Mark. “What are you doing flirting with other disc jockeys?”

Mark smiled smoothly. “Allie and I go back a long way.”

“As long as you stay back, I don’t care.” Charlie held the door for Allie. “If you’re finished here, we need to talk about this damn program.”

“Fine,” Allie said, annoyed with them both. Mark had dumped her and Charlie was leaving in November, but in the meantime they both thought they owned a part of her. And she knew which parts, too. Mark wanted her brain to save his show, and Charlie wanted her butt.

Well, the hell with both of them.

“What difference does the program make?” she said to Charlie, and he looked so stunned she felt vindicated. “You want to be a flop, remember?”

She took off down the hall and heard him follow her. “Are you all right?” he called after her. “This isn’t like you.”

“You’re making me mad,” she said. “You and Mark, both.”

He followed her into her office. “Don’t put me in the same sentence with Mark. What did I do?”

“All he thinks about is what I can do for him in radio,” Allie said, slamming her coffee cup down on her desk and sloshing coffee on her papers. “And all you care about is what I can do for you in bed. The hell with both of you. I don’t need you.” She sat down and crossed her arms.

Charlie sat down across from her and watched her warily. “Uh, I don’t know what brought this on, but I want you for more than sex. We’re friends. You know that. Is Mark trying to get you back for his show?”

“I have friends,” Allie told him. “Joe, and Harry, and Karen, and a lot more. They don’t jump my body every chance they get.”

Charlie’s eyebrows rose. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“No, you won’t,” Allie said gloomily. “That’s how you communicate. Men. The weaker sex. If you were a woman, you’d have the guts to talk to me, but since you’re a guy you just want sex.”

“Well, then say no,” Charlie said, the exasperation plain in his voice. “You always seem pretty enthusiastic when I suggest it.”

“I am enthusiastic,” Allie said. “I love going to bed with you. But that’s all we do.”

“So what do you want?”

“I want to talk sometimes.” She hated sounding wimpy, but there it was. “You know, really talk.”

“Good.” Charlie put a stack of disks on her desk. “We’ll talk tonight on the show. You’ll love it. Conversation and your career, a two-for-one deal.”

Allie gazed at him for a moment, looking at the monster she’d created. She wanted to work on their relationship, he wanted to work on her career. Just what she needed in her already bleak life: irony. “Great,” she said. “Tell me all about it.”


* * *

Four hours later, Charlie leaned into the mike and said, “Well, here we are again, all phones working. And for those of you who were wondering, the guy being hugged by the blonde on the front page of the paper is not me. That’s my roommate, Joe, and the reason he looks so surprised is that he’s gay. Yes, folks, somebody’s up to something here in old Tuttle. I don’t mind, but Joe would appreciate it if whoever it is would quit sending hookers over to our apartment with cameras. They’re ruining his reputation.”

“Oh, he’ll love that,” Allie said softly as she petted Sam, careful not to speak into the mike.

“And now, back by popular request, is my producer, the poster girl for irrationality, Alice McGuffey.”

“Hey,” Allie said. “Let’s try this introduction again.”

Charlie shook his head. “You are the person who stood in your office today and announced to me that men were the weaker sex, right?”

Allie snorted. “That’s not irrational. That’s the truth.”

Charlie laughed. “I can beat you at arm wrestling anytime, honey.”

Allie’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Life is not about arm wrestling.”

“What’s life got to do with this?”

“What I said in the office was that women are stronger because they talk to each other, and men are weaker and concentrate on sex and ignore other more important things, like establishing warm human relationships.”

Charlie groaned. “Why do women always bring every discussion back to relationships?”

“Because relationships are the basis for life, you dweeb.”

Charlie’s voice sounded wary. “Tell me you’re not talking about marriage.”

“I’m not talking about marriage,” Allie said reasonably. “I’m talking about establishing warm connections with other people. Men don’t do it.”

“Hey. I have a warm connection with another person.” Charlie wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“That’s sex.” Allie wiggled her eyebrows back and stuck out her tongue. “That’s what men use as a substitute for relationships. But it’s not the real thing.”

“It feels real.” Charlie scowled at her.

“Yeah, but can you keep the relationship going without it?”

Charlie looked at her, surprised. “My relationship with this woman is more than sex and she knows it.”

“That’s not the point.” Allie leaned forward. “The point is that women can survive without all the physical stuff that men need because they know what’s important is the human relationship. So they talk to each other. They don’t get all the warmth in their lives from sex.”

“Sex isn’t important to you?” Charlie asked, disbelief heavy in his voice.

“Of course, it’s important to me. But I wouldn’t come unglued without it like you would.”

“You wouldn’t?” Charlie sat back. “Ha.”

“No,” Allie said primly. “As long as a woman is getting her emotional needs met by the ones she loves, she can handle sexual deprivation. But a man doesn’t know how to get his emotional needs satisfied except through sex, so he’ll get depressed and become irrational. Not that anyone would notice since men are pretty irrational most of the time, anyway-”

Charlie interrupted her. “I don’t believe this. Let me get this straight-you’re saying that if we stop sleeping together, I’ll crack before you will because I don’t have any friends and you do?”

Allie froze in her chair.

“Well?”

“Sort of,” she said faintly. “Although I certainly wouldn’t have put it that way on the air.”

“What? Oh.” Charlie winced as he realized what he’d done. “Well, the cat’s out, so you might as well finish what you’ve started here. I can’t believe you’d make such a sexist argument.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out who’s right.” Allie stuck her chin out, daring him. “Today’s October second, and is you know we were fighting last night, so we can count from there. Let’s see which one of us is the most irrational by November first.”

“What?” Charlie said, startled.

“You said it would be no problem.” Allie shrugged. “Put your money where your… mouth is.”

“Allie, that isn’t funny.”

Allie smiled at him, triumphant. “I rest my case. I knew you wouldn’t even try it.”

“Did you?” Charlie leaned back. “All right. Fine. We’re celibate until November first. No problem.”

“Really?” Allie said.

“Really,” Charlie said.

The phone began to ring.

Allie laughed nervously and stood up, putting Sam back in his basket as she rose. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat with callers, but I’ve got to be a producer now. You started this, you talk about it.”

He watched Allie leave the booth and then turned back to the mike. “She would pick a month with thirty-one days. Okay, folks, while Allie’s hooking up the caller…” Somebody tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see Stewart. “What?”

Stewart handed him a tape.

“Our engineer has just shown up with a tape in hand. Special request, Stewart? This isn’t like you…” Charlie’s voice trailed off as he read the label. “Oh, very funny. Okay, here’s Stewart the comedian’s request.”

Charlie shoved in the cassette, and the Rolling Stones blared out “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.” He flipped off the sound and swung around to face Stewart.

“So now how much trouble are we in with this one?”

“I’m not in any.” Stewart grinned. “You’re the one that’s not going to get laid for a month in front of the whole city.”

“Oh, big deal.” Charlie stood up and stretched. “Lots of people go without for months, years, a lifetime. Priests do it.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a priest.” Stewart turned to go. “Listen, if you need anybody to meet your emotional needs, don’t come to me. I don’t do that wimpy stuff.”

“Thanks, Stewart,” Charlie said. “I knew you’d be there for me.”


* * *

Allie had his sheets and pillowcases on the couch for him when he got home.

“Here’s another nice mess you’ve gotten us into, Ollie,” she said, and he said, “Me? Wait a minute,” but she’d already slammed her bedroom door behind her.

He sighed and stripped down to his shorts, too tired to argue. At least from now on he’d be getting some sleep. There was an improvement. Of course, if he had to choose between cataclysmic, head-banging sex and sleep, he’d choose the sex, but since the choice was now moot, he could see the bright side.

An hour later, he couldn’t see the bright side.

He was so tired, he was punch-drunk, but he couldn’t get to sleep. He tossed on the couch, tried sleeping sitting up, stretched out and took deep breaths, counted sheep, goats and German shepherds, and finally, as the numbers on the digital clock rolled around to 3:30, he gave up.

He picked up his pillow and went in to Allie.

She stirred when he threw his pillow on the bed, mumbled something and then fell back asleep.

“Glad to see you missed me,” he told her body and then climbed in beside her, rolling so his back was to her and his rear end was warmly against hers.