Page 51 of Analysing Her Assets

On his way to answer the door, Gideon fantasized about what Tamar would be wearing. A dress or a skirt. Or maybe jeans? He himself spent some time on choosing his own clothes, finally going for a long-sleeved white Henley and stonewashed jeans.

Tamar wore the same black skirt she wore when she read his mother’s story. He loved this skirt. Her shirt was lilac, some sort of soft fabric, with small buttons and a way that cinched under her breasts and made them even more gorgeous than usual. It had to be her sister’s. As much as he detested Tally, he had to hand it to her–her clothes brought out Tamar’s best features. A black shawl was thrown around her elbows, her cheeks were reddish, her dark eyes shining.

“Oh, wow, your place is beautiful! You have a huge balcony!” Tamar and Giddy went out, and he followed.

The view to the east, towards Melchett, was of other, similar Tel Avivian buildings with their typical ungainly solar panels and round heavy forms of sun-heated boilers. Westward was magnificent. Ha’avoda Street rolled down, narrow and one-laned, towards King George Street to where the ancient, hallowed sycamores spread their wide canopies.

“Oh, hey Shemesh, lovely kennel.” Giddy and Shemesh reacquainted with each other, after which he tied Giddy loosely to the kennel, leaving him plenty of room to wander around.

“Are you embarrassed about this morning? Because I am,” he said. The evening air was a little chilly, so he arranged Tamar’s shawl on her shoulders and kept his hands there. Her head reached just under his chin, and he sniffed her now familiar scent.

“I wish Eyal didn’t...Anyway, you’re right. We’re not doing anything wrong. It was nice of you to tell them you liked me. Good save.”

“I didn’t just say it. We could be adversaries and still be friends and like each other. Like Federer and Nadal. They fought each other on the court and were friends outside it.”

“Maybe Nadal made Federer squirt.” Tamar giggled again. He’d never known her to giggle much. She was nervous.

“When Federer beat him, for sure,” Gideon joked, but she stiffened under his palms.

“Well, I’ll beat you for sure,” she said. Their rivalry was a constant minefield they had to negotiate.

“Shall we?” They went inside. She sat on a barstool, and he took out the Sancerre he’d cooled and placed two wine glasses atop the island’s heavy wooden slab.

“My project at the Brokerage has to be better than your boring shareholders meetings thingy.”

Yes, she was nervous, Gideon was sure of it. They made a pact not to talk of work, but she reverted to it, because that was her comfort zone.

He uncorked the bottle of wine and poured some for Tamar.

“Do you like working with Danny?” Since they were talking, he could get this out of his system. He detested Danny, and it bothered him that Tamar worked with him. She set her mouth and shrugged.

“He asked you out,” Gideon stated, unable to stop himself. He shouldn’t be doing this to them, ruining his own night.

“Yes, the other day, for drinks.”

“What, again?” He referred to what Danny had said in the kitchen, but apparently there were later developments.

“Yes. I said no. We said we would be exclusive.” She stared into her wine glass, and he had a hard time reading her expression. Would she have said yes if they didn’t have their deal? Heat climbed in his throat like bad vinegar. He gulped down his wine and got a grip, reining in his resentment. This was supposed to be fun, not an envious act.

“Yalla, it’s my turn. Let’s get to it. The checkup returned. No STD.” He informed her.

She nodded. He took another sip of wine. Tamar wasn’t meeting his eyes. Time to lighten the mood.

“You should know that I haven’t been with a woman in a very long time,” Gideon started. “So as much as I enjoyed our evening the day before yesterday, and some, eh, self-indulging acts since.” She grinned, and he smiled back at her. “Still, I imagine once we’re doing the deed, I won’t hold out much. Even with a condom.”

“But you just said you did your STD checks.”

“I did. But do you want to get pregnant?” He considered not having children as much his responsibility as the lady’s and accepted that wearing a condom was part of having intercourse.

“I won’t. I’m on the pill. Actually, it’s a patch, never mind. Anyway, I won’t get pregnant.”

“Why are you on the pill? Patch?”

“Aren’t you glad? I thought men detest wearing condoms.” He continued staring at her. This wasn’t a good enough explanation. As far as he knew, she wasn’t in any serious relationship, and he knew many women who didn’t take the pill because of what the hormones did to their systems.

“Look,” Tamar exhaled the word. “It’s part of my rules.”

“But you want children, right? More than one, right?”

---