MIDDLE-AGE FANTASIES

You are seated on the examination table when the nurse enters. She’s tall and raven-haired, with enormous blue eyes and candy-red lips. She says hello with a husky Eastern European accent, which reminds you of a recent episode of “The Daily” about Polish elections.

- YONI BRENNER

Sexy Nurse

As she takes your blood pressure, you casually ask her whether the new centrist government will be able to sustain broad support among an increasingly populist electorate. Her eyes flash with delight, and you spend the next three minutes chatting knowledgeably—but not obnoxiously—about the challenges facing emerging European democracies in the shadow of Russian aggression. When it’s time to summon the doctor, she lingers in the doorway for a moment, nibbling her lip seductively, and says, “You are quite well informed.” And it’s true. You are.

Forbidden Layover

You are standing at the United Airlines counter at O’Hare, having just learned that your flight is delayed three hours. The agent taps on his keyboard. He’s six-three and distractingly handsome—green-eyed, olive-skinned, and bearing an uncanny resemblance to that bad-boy tennis player, Nick something. You explain why you need to get home today: it’s your night to pick up your daughter from gymnastics, and your dog has some weird diarrhea thing but your wife can’t take him to the vet because she has back-to-back Zooms with clients in Malaysia. The agent nods with genuine sympathy and says that although he can’t rebook you, perhaps a pass to the first-class lounge might make up for the inconvenience?