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  'I'm five eleven,' I said. 'One inch difference. What do you weigh?'

  'One hundred and eighty-seven.'

  'I'm a hundred and eighty-four,' I said. 'What's three pounds among friends?'

  There was a pause, Jerry was looking out through the french windows on to the terrace where my wife, Mary, was standing. Mary was still talking to Bob Swain and the evening sun was shining in her hair. She was a dark pretty girl with a bosom. I watched Jerry. I saw his tongue come out and go sliding along the surface of his lower lip.

  'I guess you're right,' Jerry said, still looking at Mary. 'I guess we are about the same size, you and me.' When he turned back and faced me again, there was a little red rose high up on each cheek. 'Go on about these two men,' he said. 'What about some of the other differences?'

  'You mean faces?' I said. 'No one's going to see faces in the dark.'

  'I'm not talking about faces,' Jerry said.

  'What are you talking about, then?'

  'I'm talking about their cocks,' Jerry said. 'That's what it's all about, isn't it? And you're not going to tell me...'

  'Oh yes, I am,' I said. 'Just so long as both men were either circumcised or uncircumcised, then there was really no problem.'

  'Are you seriously suggesting that all men have the same size in cocks?' Jerry said. 'Because they don't.'

  'I know they don't,' I said.

  'Some are enormous,' Jerry said. 'And some are titchy.'

  'There are always exceptions,' I told him. 'But you'd be surprised at the number of men whose measurements are virtually the same, give or take a centimetre. According to my friend, ninety per cent are normal. Only ten per cent are notably large or small.'

  'I don't believe that,' Jerry said.

  'Check on it sometime,' I said. 'Ask some well-travelled girl.'

  Jerry took a long slow sip of his whisky, and his eyes over the top of his glass were looking again at Mary on the terrace. 'What about the rest of it?' he said.

  'No problem,' I said.

  'No problem, my arse,' he said. 'Shall I tell you why this is a phony story?'

  'Go ahead.'

  'Everybody knows that a wife and husband who have been married for some years develop a kind of routine. It's inevitable. My God, a new operator would be spotted instantly. You know damn well he would. You can't suddenly wade in with a totally different style and expect the woman not to notice it, and I don't care how randy she was. She'd smell a rat in the first minute!'

  'A routine can be duplicated,' I said. 'Just so long as every detail of that routine is described beforehand.'

  'A bit personal, that,' Jerry said.

  'The whole thing's personal,' I said. 'So each man tells his story. He tells precisely what he usually does. He tells everything. The lot. The works. The whole routine from beginning to end.'

  'Jesus,' Jerry said.

  'Each of these men,' I said, 'had to learn a new part. He had, in effect, to become an actor. He was impersonating another character.'

  'Not so easy, that,' Jerry said.

  'No problem at all, according to my friend. The only thing one had to watch out for was not to get carried away and start improvising. One had to follow the stage directions very carefully and stick to them.'

  Jerry took another pull at his drink. He also took another look at Mary on the terrace. Then he leaned back against the sofa, glass in hand.

  'These two characters,' he said. 'You mean they actually pulled it off?'

  'I'm damn sure they did,' I said. 'They're still doing it. About once every three weeks.'

  'Fantastic story,' Jerry said. 'And a damn crazy dangerous thing to do. Just imagine the sort of hell that would break loose if you were caught. Instant divorce. Two divorces, in fact. One on each side of the street. Not worth it.'

  'Takes a lot of guts,' I said.

  'The party's breaking up,' Jerry said. 'They're all going home with their goddam wives.'

  I didn't say any more after that. We sat there for a couple of minutes sipping our drinks while the guests began drifting towards the hall.

  'Did he say it was fun, this friend of yours?' Jerry asked suddenly.

  'He said it was a gas,' I answered. 'He said all the normal pleasures got intensified one hundred per cent because of the risk. He swore it was the greatest way of doing it in the world, impersonating the husband and the wife not knowing it.'

  At that point, Mary came in through the french windows with Bob Swain. She had an empty glass in one hand and a flame-coloured azalea in the other. She had picked the azalea on the terrace.

  'I've been watching you,' she said, pointing the flower at me like a pistol. 'You've hardly stopped talking for the last ten minutes. What's he been telling you, Jerry?'

  'A dirty story,' Jerry said, grinning.

  'He does that when he drinks,' Mary said.

  'Good story,' Jerry said. 'But totally impossible. Get him to tell it to you sometime.'

  'I don't like dirty stories,' Mary said. 'Come along, Vic. It's time we went.'

  'Don't go yet,' Jerry said, fixing his eyes upon her splendid bosom. 'Have another drink.'

  'No thanks,' she said. 'The children'll be screaming for their supper. I've had a lovely time.'

  'Aren't you going to kiss me good night?' Jerry said, getting up from the sofa. He went for her mouth, but she turned her head quickly and he caught only the edge of her cheek.

  'Go away, Jerry,' she said. 'You're drunk.'

  'Not drunk,' Jerry said. 'Just lecherous.'

  'Don't you get lecherous with me, my boy,' Mary said sharply. 'I hate that sort of talk.' She marched away across the room, carrying her bosom before her like a battering-ram.

  'So long, Jerry,' I said. 'Fine party.'

  Mary, full of dark looks, was waiting for me in the hall. Samantha was there, too, saying goodbye to the last guests - Samantha with her dexterous fingers and her smooth skin and her smooth, dangerous thighs. 'Cheer up, Vic,' she said to me, her white teeth showing. She looked like the creation, the beginning of the world, the first morning. 'Good night, Vic darling,' she said, stirring her fingers in my vitals.

  I followed Mary out of the house. 'You feeling all right?' she asked.

  'Yes,' I said. 'Why not?'

  'The amount you drink is enough to make anyone feel ill,' she said.

  There was a scrubby old hedge dividing our place from Jerry's and there was a gap in it we always used. Mary and I walked through the gap in silence. We went into the house and she cooked up a big pile of scrambled eggs and bacon, and we ate it with the children.

  After the meal, I wandered outside. The summer evening was clear and cool and because I had nothing else to do I decided to mow the grass in the front garden. I got the mower out of the shed and started it up. Then I began the old routine of marching back and forth behind it. I like mowing grass. It is a soothing operation, and on our front lawn I could always look at Samantha's house going one way and think about her going the other.

  I had been at it for about ten minutes when Jerry came strolling through the gap in the hedge. He was smoking a pipe and had his hands in his pockets and he stood on the edge of the grass, watching me. I pulled up in front of him, but left the motor ticking over.

  'Hi, sport,' he said. 'How's everything?'

  'I'm in the doghouse,' I said. 'So are you.'

  'Your little wife,' he said, 'is just too goddamn prim and prissy to be true.'

  'Oh, I know that.'

  'She rebuked me in my own house,' Jerry said.

  'Not very much.'

  'It was enough,' he said, smiling slightly.

  'Enough for what?'

  'Enough to make me want to get a little bit of my own back on her. So what would you think if I suggested you and I have a go at that thing your friend told you about at lunch?'

  When he said this, I felt such a surge of excitement my stomach nearly jumped out of my mouth. I gripped the handles of the mower and started revving the engine.

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