Nora sighed. So she wasn't the girl he had married anymore. He wasn't the boy she had married either. But there was no doubt about it, unfair as it seemed. Men simply did age better than women in most cases. She knew that Jeff worked out at the gym in his office five days a week. He insisted on low-fat, low-carb meals when he was home. He didn't smoke, and drank rarely except very expensive wines. The truth was that he looked better now than he had when they were first married.

Nora wandered absently back into the den. He hadn't said anything to her yet, but he was going to, and she sensed it was coming soon. She flopped back on the couch. Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! There was that niggling question again. What was she going to do to survive this disaster? Suddenly Nora was exhausted with her newly discovered tension. She dozed restlessly for how long she didn't know. Her confusion and reverie were broken by a young voice calling.

"Mrs. B.? It's me, Maureen. I've got your KFC."

"Thanks, honey," Nora called back. "Leave it on the counter, will you?" She didn't want Maureen to see her, for she realized that she had been crying in her sleep. She must really look like hell. If Maureen saw her, she would call Carla at the hospital, and Carla would call her. There was nothing anyone could do for her right now.

"Okay, Mrs. B. I ran into J. J. coming in. He said he didn't want to disturb you. He'll see you tomorrow. Daddy got you mashed potatoes and coleslaw. I hope that's alright," Maureen said.

"Fine, sweetie, my favorites," Nora assured her. "Tell your dad I said thanks, and ask him to let me know what I owe him, okay?" She heard the kitchen door close behind the girl. Standing up, she went out into her kitchen to get her dinner. Taking a plate down from the cabinet, she opened the cardboard box. Rick had gotten her a breast and two wings. It was still hot, and it smelled good. She put it on her plate along with the biscuit, which she buttered. Then she emptied the container of mashed potatoes and gravy onto the plate, opened the coleslaw and took it into the den. Returning to the kitchen, she grabbed a fork, a napkin, and a glass of peach iced tea. Back in the den she turned on Peter Jennings, and sat down to eat. The news was the same as always. War and a fluctuating stock market.

Mick and Jerry, the family cats, appeared magically, licking their chops and meowing. They looked up hopefully at Nora. She laughed, pulled the meat from the two wings, put it on a napkin, and set it down on the floor for the two felines to devour. When the news ended, she turned the set off. The clock on the fireplace mantle struck seven o'clock, and as it did she considered her conversation with her friends this morning. She was alone tonight. No one but her and the cats in the house. She could order this channel thing. They all seemed to like it, and damnit, she could use a lift. She suspected it was some sort of X-rated channel, but why not? Carla was her best friend in all the world, and Carla wouldn't steer her wrong. Nora picked up the telephone and dialed Suburban Cable.

Two rings, and an automated voice was droning in her ear. "Thank you for calling Suburban Cable. If you are experiencing technical difficulties, please press one. If you would like to order one of our pay-per-view movies, please press two. All other callers, please remain on the line for the next available representative. Your call will be answered in the order in which it was received."

Was The Channel a movie? Nora wondered. No. Carla would have said so. She hung on the line as the elevator music kicked in, playing that golden oldie, and rather applicable to her situation, "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'." Nora felt a grin crease her face.

"Suburban Cable, this is Joyce. How may I help you?" a cheerful voice suddenly chirped in her ear.

"I… I'd like to order The Channel," Nora said, the words rushing out.

"Your telephone number, please," Joyce said, sounding totally disinterested in Nora's choice of entertainment.

"It's 567-2339," Nora replied.

"Buckley? At 720 Ansley Court?"

"Yes."

"And you are?" Joyce asked.

"Mrs. Buckley," Nora replied.

"Very good, Mrs. Buckley. You'll find your selection tonight on channel sixty-nine at eight p.m. Is there anything else I can do for you at this moment?"

"No. Thank you," Nora answered, and then she hung up. Omigod! She had done it. She giggled to herself, and began to finish her supper. She realized now that she couldn't wait until eight. It probably was a porn channel, she decided, but she didn't care. She and Jeff had once watched a couple of movies from the video store. Her husband had claimed to be turned off by them, or so he had said. Nora had thought the films silly, but they were certainly stimulating, she recalled. It was probably just what she needed. An evening of dirty movies, and a pint of caramel praline ice cream. She picked her chicken down to the bone and cleaned her plate of everything else.

Putting her dishes in the dishwasher, Nora went upstairs, showered quickly, and got into a clean nightshirt that had a teddy bear on the front of it claiming, "I don't do mornings." Giving her ice cream ten seconds in the microwave, she got a spoon and a glass of water, and set them on the table by her large recliner. Then settling into the chair with a contented sigh, she picked up the remote as the clock struck eight p.m., pressed it on, and coded in sixty-nine. The screen was black.

"Oh, for God's sakes," Nora muttered aloud. Did they forget to send her the signal? Damn! She had been looking forward to this.

But then suddenly the screen lightened, and a rather mellifluous voice said silkily, "Good evening, and welcome to The Channel, where your fantasies become your reality."

Well, that was certainly confusing, but absolutely intriguing. Then the screen changed again. Nora found herself looking into a rather large living room that came into perfect view. "Oh," she said softly. It was a beautiful room. Just like one she had always imagined, but certainly not one that Jeff would have liked. It was very modern and elegant. All glass and chrome and brass with large overstuffed white sofas and chairs, with emerald green and sapphire blue silk pillows. Even the carpet was creamy white. It looked as if when you stepped on it you would be ankle-deep in the pile. The lighting was indirect. There were candles on every table. In her imagination they would be scented and give off the faint fragrance of gardenia. She adored the smell of gardenia candles. Large windows offered a night cityscape. Dipping her spoon into her ice cream, she slid it into her mouth, enjoying the taste of the caramel praline on her tongue.

She heard the sound of a door opening and closing. A man came into her view. Nora gaped, the spoon halfway to her mouth again. The man, bronzed, and clad only in a white towel, was gorgeous. Absolutely, perfectly gorgeous! He appeared to be looking in her direction, and he smiled. The dazzling white teeth flashed against his tanned skin. All abs and pecs, and heaven only knew what else- she couldn't pull her eyes away from him.

His chest was broad and smooth. His waist and hips were narrow. He was tall with long, long legs. The full head of hair was raven black, cut short, but beautifully styled. Nora couldn't tell the color of his eyes beneath the bushy eyebrows, but hell! Did it really matter? Yeah, this was porn, but oh, baby! She couldn't wait to see the woman who would partner Mr. Gorgeous.

The man was looking directly at her, or at least it seemed he was looking directly at her. It was just the slightest bit eerie, Nora thought. Then he spoke, and of course the voice belonged with the buff body. It was deep with just the roughest edge to it. "Hello, Nora." He smiled again. It was a slightly crooked smile. "Hey, Red Rover, want to come over and play with me?" he crooned.

Nora smiled. When she was a kid they used to play a game called Red Rover. When she had first learned it she thought the boys were referring to her hair when they called to her, "Red Rover, come over." She stretched back in her recliner, waiting to see the hot babe who was undoubtedly about to appear. Why didn't Carla just say The Channel was a porn channel and let it go at that instead of making such a mystery of it? Probably thought I'd be shocked, Nora considered.

The man held out his hand. "Nora," he said quietly, "aren't you coming? You did order The Channel, and it has created that little fantasy you've kept hidden all these years. Do you just want to stare at me, or do you want to have some fun with me?"

A sudden chill of surprise swept down her spine. He was talking to her! No! He couldn't be talking to her.

"Are you afraid, Nora? You don't have to be afraid, you know," he assured her with another crooked smile. "This is your fantasy, after all. We aren't going to do anything that you don't want to do, I promise you, but I assure you I know just what you want, darling. But you don't trust men right now, do you? Well, I can't blame you, considering what Jeff has done to you all these years." He held out his hand once again. "Come on, Nora. Come and be with me for a while. You'll enjoy it, I guarantee you."

For the longest moment Nora couldn't move. She was absolutely frozen in her chair. Her heart was hammering in her ears. He really was talking to her. He was! She swallowed visibly. Her throat felt tight, but she managed to speak. "Who are you?"

"My name is Kyle," he told her, and he smiled a third time. "You like the name Kyle, don't you?"

"Yes." It was in fact one of her favorite names. Nora wasn't certain that she shouldn't be very afraid, but she realized that she wasn't. Startled, yes. Surprised? You betcha! But she was not afraid. "How do you know me?" she questioned him.

"Well, I suppose you could say I was a part of you, Nora, because this is, after all, your fantasy. You've kept it hidden away deep in your subconscious for a very long time because fantasies are illusionary and not really meant to be lived out. And many fantasies wouldn't be considered respectable." He grinned. "By requesting The Channel, however, you allowed your fantasies to be released. It allows you to interact with your fantasies. This is the apartment that you always dreamed of, isn't it? You've furnished it in your mind a thousand times over, haven't you?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "But how can this be possible? How can I be seeing it on my television, and talking to you?"

He shook his dark head. "I have absolutely no idea," he answered honestly. "My reality seems to be your fantasy."

"Omigod!" she half whispered. "I'm asleep, then. Right?"

"Nope," he told her. "You're very much awake, Nora, my darling. Come and join me now." This time the smile he gave her was seductive and slow. It promised to fulfill her deepest desires.

"How?"

He placed his palm against the television's screen from the opposite side so that it faced her. "Match your hand to mine," he said, "and we'll be together."

"I'll be with you? In that apartment?" Nora sounded dubious. "And just how do I get back here to my own house, then?"

"Every woman visiting The Channel is returned at the end of the evening," he replied. "It just happens. Carla wouldn't steer you wrong, Nora, darling. You know she wouldn't. Come on over, Red Rover, and play with me. I play nice, and you know you really want to be with me."

"I don't think so," Nora answered him.

"Why not? Afraid?" he half taunted her. "You never used to be afraid of anything when you were a kid, darling."

"Maybe you haven't noticed," Nora remarked dryly, "but I'm not a kid any longer. I'm closer to fifty than forty. I've got about thirty pounds on me I didn't have way back when. My hair is showing signs of graying, and you, Mr. Gorgeous, should have someone equally gorgeous." She reached for the remote. It was past time to turn this thing off. She had to be dreaming, but if she shut The Channel down and woke herself up, maybe, just maybe, she could catch Mystery on PBS.

"Don't send me away, Nora, darling," he pleaded, divining her intent. "This is your fantasy, and you actually have the chance to live it. Here you can be whatever you want to be, and do whatever you want to do. If younger and sexy is what you desire, then you shall be young and sexy. The Channel allows you this unique opportunity."

Nora hesitated, fascinated by his words, surprised that she was actually beginning to consider them seriously. "You mean if I want to be thirty again, one hundred and twenty pounds, and have perky boobs again, I can?" This was crazy. Why was she even listening to him? Then she smiled to herself. She was listening because he was charming, and very tempting. It had been forever since a man had spoken to her as if she was a sensual and intelligent woman. Not someone's wife, or mother, or servant.