Glass Ceiling

"Well, Tammy certainly doesn't seem to have any problems," Charles said, sitting on the edge of the bed and sliding on a pair of Brazilian wingtips.

Janet could tell it was going to be one of those early-morning-bedroom-scenes that seemed to happen more and more often.

"Tammy, need I remind you, is ten years younger than me—and you're old enough to be her father–and then some."

Charles stood and walked over to the dresser, adjusting his Italian suit in the mirror there. "You always have some excuse don't you."

"Go on. Say it."

"You're getting—womanly."

"I look like what a woman my age is supposed to look like," Janet said, dragging on a skirt that only last week she'd slid into. "It's so easy for you men. Eat what you like. Push a few weights around. And it's gone."

"Listen, I've worked hard for what I have."

"Yeah right," Janet said, rolling her eyes until the whites showed.

"You know–if you're not careful..."

"What?" Janet said as if she weren't afraid.

"Never mind." Charles gave her forehead an antiseptic kiss. "I'll be working late again. Don't wait up."

And he was gone.

Janet cried softly to herself for a while. Her stupid-stupid husband had almost said it. She knew he had his eye on Tammy. He was the perfect pasty—right age–right income bracket.

She was bound to lose him–if not to that floozy than to some other gold-digger. Charles was the perfect victim.

Victim, Janet mouthed. Why should Charles be some other woman's victim? Why should she have all the fun? Why not her—her perfect victim.

Soon After

"Honey," Charles yelled from downstairs. "Have you seen my vitamins?"

"On the kitchen table dear," Janet smiled, bushing her hair in long languid strokes.

After a pause Charles yelled again. "They're new."

"Yes. The pharmacist swore by them–said they'd make a new you out of you."

"Thanks. See you tonight."

That was the start. Each day after that Charles would take his vitamins, work-hard from dawn till late and then play-hard at the gym and after. Very much the man in control of himself and his destiny, he was sorry for Janet but it seemed each day they just grew farther and farther apart.

I guess some people just age faster than others, he finally decided.

Month One

Pretty much one month later Tammy said, "Are you okay Tiger?"

"Yeah," Charles huffed. "Fine." He plucked the pin from the weight stack so she wouldn't notice how little heft he was hefting.

"Why the sweats then?"

It was way too hot for a warm-up suit but Charles refused to doff it, preferring roasting alive to having anyone see how soft he was getting.

"I guess I must be coming down with something."

"That would explain the voice."

"My voice—" Charles croaked, its sudden crack sending it soaring into the stratosphere.

"Going through puberty again I see." "Right." For some reason Charles did not find this funny at all.

"I bet you were quite the horny teenager, weren't you?