• A hall on the 29th floor. Past the rest-rooms. Then there’s a sharp turn and a door that goes out on a little landing, sort of recessed. A lot of old Manhattan office buildings have these. Robert stands there looking down at the city, the East River. Wearing an overcoat; the air temperature feels about 45. His windpipe is tight, his heart beating heavily. Just to touch her, that’s all he wants. Which sounds even crazier when he thinks it.
Kathy eases past the heavy door. A stillness about her that seems to make him more excited. Hands in her coat pockets, head a little to the side. Smiling at him. Slowly she unbuttons her coat, holds it open. Twists a little, swells her chest. “Hi, big guy. . . . All yours.”
He thinks of grabbing her hard, mauling her in his arms, sitting her on the railing, getting between her thighs. Not things he can so easily do. The city all around them, maybe somebody noticing them just this second. The guilt! Anne jumping into his head. And his staff down on 16 probably wondering where he is. He steps to her, slides his arms around her back, presses her against him.
“Silly me,” he says, smiling awkwardly. “I’ve got a paper to put together. And all I can think about is . . . one kiss. From you.”
They kiss for a long time. “Only one kiss?” she asks. She can see the tension in his face, feel the rigidity in his body. Partly it flatters her, partly it charms her, partly it amuses her. “You know what I told you. . . . I’m always here for you. Use me.” She slides her palm down over the front of his pants. “Feels like a big dick to me. You think anybody’s watching?” Robert stares wildly around. “Doesn’t matter. All they see is two people talking.” She unzips his pants, takes his prick out, strokes him firmly, not too quickly.
“What,” he gasps.
She puts her lips close to his. “I’m jerking you off.”
“But . . . ?”
“Oh? All that stuff? Hmmmm. Gallons of nice come. You better figure something out, lover.”
Robert searches his pockets, almost desperately, comes up with two wrinkled napkins, put there at some long-ago restaurant or cocktail party. His legs are aching, and his groin is tightening. He positions the napkins just over his prick, with his left hand. He grips her shoulder with the other. “Oh, Kathy . . . I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean it to be like . . .”
She smiles, almost laughing at him. “Robie, darling. I’m yours. Besides, I like jerking you off. Feels great. How do you feel? Throbbing maybe?”
“Yes. Oh, God . . . great. . . . Everything’s starting to spin.”
She likes that. The man has a lot of romance in him. Awkward but genuine. That’s something she can learn from him. She strokes him faster, watching his face tighten, the nervous grimaces, the heavy sighs. Struggling to come, to hold it off, to say something sweet.
“Don’t think, Robie. . . . Just let it rip, sweetheart.”
“Sweet . . . heart. Ohhhhhh. God. Oh, please, thank you.” He’s gasping, and trying to catch it all with the napkins, doubling over a little, smiling gratefully into her serene face. “Great,” he tells her, “that was . . . wonderful.”
She gives him some last squeezes, then puts it back in his pants, zips him up. “Oh, look.” When she brings her hand up between them, there’s a fleck of white on her first finger. Slowly she puts the hand close to her mouth and licks off the fleck. “Hhmmmm.”
“Ohhhh,” he says, staring blankly at her, “you’ll make me hard again.”
Kathy smiles. “Good. Now you go back and put out a great paper and think about me every second.”
“Kiss me again,” he begs. “You’re just . . . so . . . wonderful.”
“Twice in the same day,” she smiles. “I must be doing something right.”
“Kathy . . . everything.”