• Robert arrives twenty minutes after Kathy, at five. A little hotel on East 32nd Street. Everything worked out. False names. No records. Never seen together. Kathy insists, says it’s only smart. She calls in the reservation at lunch, says her husband is flying in later from Denver.
Robert comes up the elevator, marveling at the things he’s doing, things he never imagined. Plotting and scheming. Lying, that’s the bottom line. Lying all the time. To Anne. To his colleagues. To himself? That’s where it gets tricky. Then when he imagines he’s getting a clear fix on things, he thinks of Kathy’s eager sexuality, of some extravagant little detail of her enthusiasm for him, of how pretty she is, how vital and alive. And he can’t think. He can only want. And count the seconds until the next time he can look into those lovely eyes and touch her.
Coming out of the elevator, he can feel his heart, sense the pulse of his blood. It’s madness, he thinks. . . . What if Anne finds out? . . . Have to stop. Pull back. . . .
Instead he almost runs down the hall. Knocks three times and goes in the unlocked room. The light subdued. He has to strain to see. Bed, chairs . . .
“Hello?”
The room’s L-shaped, with a little area to the right. He turns that way. Sees a wide cabinet. Kathy sitting on top, in the middle, naked, hips forward, her knees up and far apart.
“Hi, lover.”
He feels faint from a rush of emotions. His first thought is to drop on his knees before her, in veneration, in hunger for her sweet body.
He lurches closer, puts a hand on her knee. Smiles down at her. Marveling at the shapeliness of her breasts. She reaches out to touch his balls. He almost leaves the floor, they’re so on edge.
“Do what you want,” she says. “Please. That’s all I ask.”
He kisses her hard. His fingers curl up inside her. So hot, so wet.
She’s got his pants open, holding his prick. She falls slowly sideways, stretching out on the cabinet, pulling him along. He stares fascinated as she steers his prick toward her mouth.
He wants to do everything at once. Come. Kiss her. Tell her one compliment after another. Run screaming from the room. She’s licking him. “Kathy . . . Kathy . . . wait a minute.” I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you. He can’t speak the words. But they’re true.
She ignores his gibberings, his confusion, does what she wants with him.
He pushes away from her. Staring down, his face contorted. She smiles. Yes, lover?
“Let’s start over,” he says. “Sit just the way you were. . . . I have to see it again.”
She pushes herself up, squares her knees, spreads her thighs outward. Showing him the black hair, the intricate flesh. He undresses blindly, then drops to his knees. His hands touch the floor. He moves closer, closer. Smells her. Takes deep breaths of her. He licks her for a long time, slow and dreamy, then more roughly. She rubs his hair, whispers to him, “My man.”
Finally he stands, pulling her up with him, settling her down on his prick. He turns toward the bed, topples over. Puts everything out of his mind, screws her as hard and fast as he can. Holding her ass, pounding away. Do what I want, she says . . . by God, this is what I want.
“Don’t come,” she says.
“What?”
“Just stand up, you know, on your knees.” She pushes him. “Come in the air, I want to see it.”
He straightens over her. Staring at her perfect body. Jerking himself off in a startling high arc, the come splattering on her breasts and stomach.
She dabs at it, smiling up at him. “Whoa, sweet baby. They felt that down on the street.”
An hour later, they’re dressing. Kathy walking around naked as long as possible, Robert notices. Or in her elegant underwear.
“Ohh!” she says. “I feel great. How about you?”
“Can’t walk,” he says. “Other than that, great.”
“Hey, Robie,” she says, standing close in front of him, “good sex is important. I happen to believe that. But I want you to know something. This is not all fun and games for me. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes . . . I do.”
“I care a lot about you. No, I’ll say it. I love you. Nice words.”
He stares at her, his eyes bleary. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says factually.
“It’s a start.” She laughs. “I know, I know, the married guys never leave their wives.” She rubs his chest, smiles sort of sadly. “That’s all right. I’ll take my chances. You’re worth it. Personally, I think we’re a perfect match.”
He stares some more, amazed at how she touched the big question and just went past it. He embraces her almost feverishly, from desire and confusion and something else, gratitude perhaps. For what she’s given him; and that she keeps on giving more.
She seems sometimes to think for him, which is frightening. But still a gift. Or they’re so attuned that their thoughts arrive at the same point? Maybe, he thinks, that’s what real love is. Oh, no question about it, he does love her.
The decision is like a canyon in front of his feet, but in that instant he sees himself somehow on the other side, leaving his wife behind. He and Kathy will always be together, locked in an endless embrace.
Kathy gives him a final kiss. “You go first,” she says, “catch your train.”
• • •
Kathy takes a cab to a restaurant near Penn Station. To meet Louise again, quiet her down. Goddamned Keith.
Louise is waiting inside, smoking nervously.
“Alright, alright,” Kathy says, “how bad is it? You’re here, in one piece. Louise! You are sure he didn’t follow you, right?”
Louise smirks. “I’m sure.”
They hug, then Kathy says, “Relax. You’re here to live it up.” She tells the girl with the menus, “Looks like we need the smoking section.”
They get a table by the far wall, nobody close. Fold their coats over nearby chairs. “This looks good, Louise. Now we can carry on.”
They order martinis. Louise lights another cigarette. “Nice place,” she says, glancing around at the black and chrome decor. She plays with the matches, rests her elbows on the black table. Sort of nervous, but giving Kathy this smug look. “Well, don’t you look all rosy-cheeked? Been doing anything you wouldn’t tell Mom about?”
Kathy laughs. “Alright, now tell me about Keith.”
“Let’s wait for the drinks. Look at men.”
“You got it.”
Kathy feels good, fairly calm. Nothing but time, now that Robie’s on a train home. The martinis come and the women touch glasses. “To you,” Kathy says.
“Thanks, I need it.” Louise sips half her drink, goes back to puffing on the cigarette. She’s always a little high-strung. Her face pretty enough but tense, watchful. Too much mascara. Always strutting her shoulders so nobody misses the boobs. Kathy never knows what she’ll say next, or what mood she’ll suddenly land in.
Louise sighs at length.
“Like I said, I have a long day. I’m beat to hell. Probably a good thing in the circumstances. I come home and there’s your ex-man sitting on the sofa, watching the basketball game, having himself a beer. One of mine, I think. I do happen to have two locks on my door.”
Kathy shakes her head. “Resourceful guy.”
“Oh, yeah, Kath. Thank you for sharing that.”
“He’s just showing off.”
“Yeah, he can get in my place any time he wants and kill me. He showed me that much.”
“Louise, be calm, be serious. The man’s probably on probation somewhere. He is not going to do anything that would hurt him. He’s selfish like that.”
“He pointed out he could rape me and beat me up a little and nobody would do a thing. He also said I’d like it.”
Kathy laughs. “What a guy. . . . Sorry.”
“You can laugh. I’m on the front line here.”
“The guy’s a dinosaur. Totally obsolete. And he doesn’t know it. Gives him a certain power, I guess. Charm, too, I guess. Look, Louise, it doesn’t do us any good to be upset. If he ups the ante, you’ll tell him where I am. That’s all. Then I’ll have to deal with him. Really. I appreciate you trying to keep him off.”
“He wants you back, Kath. You get this or you don’t?”
“Doesn’t matter. Maybe he wants to own the New York Yankees. Same difference.”
Louise makes her evil grin again. “He thinks you want him back. ‘Don’t let her kid you,’ he tells me. ‘Girl goes to sleep thinking about this,’ he says, grabbing you know what.”
“What, Louise . . . his Harley?”
“Yeah, right, Kathy.”
“Give me a cigarette.”
“Touch a nerve, sweetie?”
Kathy lights up, takes a deep drag, then mostly plays with the cigarette. “Jesus, Louise, you are something. You think I’d let a low-life like Keith threaten what I’ve got going?”
“And what is that, Kathy? I’d like to know.”
“Don’t be so tough. I hope you’re not pissed because I’m trying to improve my life. Come on.”
“I love you. No, I’m not pissed about that. But I’ll tell you. My brother comes home and says he’s born again, I’d want some particulars. Guy’s almost as bad as Keith, so you understand my point.”
“I don’t like that, Louise. I’m not born again, okay? I moved to Manhattan, got a pretty good job, nice little apartment. Starting over, not born again.”
“Now how’d this happen—exactly? You maybe fuck somebody?”
“Louise, stop. I went to the paper in Bergen, got a job as a secretary, office admin. Boring bullshit job. But I figured—pretend I’m an adult, give it a chance. Suddenly they need somebody to help with some promotions. Slogans. I was in some meetings, pitched in my bit. And they say, now you’re doing it full time. Eight months later I see an ad for a job over here, doing the same stuff. I figure, let’s take a shot. I walked in like I owned the place. Smiled a lot. Looked everyone in the eye. Whatever they asked, I said, ‘No problem.’ Truth. That’s the way it’s been. No problem.”
Louise shrugs in surrender, maybe get Kathy back to what matters here. “I’m sorry. . . . Congratulations.”
“I think I’m on a roll. I feel good. Hell, I feel great.”
“Rolled right into Mr. Right?”
Kathy shrugs yes.
“Uh, tingling all over?”
“Louise. Maybe you had some bedside manner. Once.” They stare at each other, smiling. “Hey, you jealous?”
Louise shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Her expression softens. “Yeah, maybe. If it’s real, what you got.”
“Oh, it’s real.”
Louise smirks. “Oh, married guy?”
“Would you stop? I told you, he’s not that married.” She smiles. “Less all the time.”
“Oh? He’s leaving his wife for you.”
“Hell,” Kathy says, “in his place, I would.”
“Got to give it to you. You got good attitude.” She waits a few seconds, blows smoke up. “So you been fucking this guy. Like an hour ago. Which put the red in your cheeks.”
Kathy thinking, Funny, a few years ago, I’d be telling her the size of the guy’s dick. Now it seems wrong. I live in Bronxville. We may fuck, but we do not talk so much.
“That smile means what?” Louise peers hard at her.
“He’s a fine man. Sorry, but I’m not telling you”—Kathy starts laughing—“how high he comes.”
“What! Tell me. Seriously, you saw?”
“A joke. Louise. Listen to me. About Keith. The reason he can’t find me is because I don’t want to be found. I do not want to see him again, not ever. And I am not afraid of him. Are you getting this?”
“I think so.”
“You think I’m telling the truth?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Don’t fucking guess, damn it. Believe it. Then convince him. Not such a big deal.”
“Oh, yeah. . . . Suppose he shows up in your house? What do you do then?”
“Whatever it takes, Louise. Whatever it takes.”
Louise sits back. “Really? Hmmmph. Maybe I am convinced.”
“Bet your last dollar, bitch.”
“Wow. . . . Bitch, is it? I guess you’re buying.”
“Louise . . . of course, I’m buying.”
“This guy really a good lay? The married guy.”
“He’s a wonderful man, Louise. He also happens to be six-one, a hundred and eighty-five or so. One does so appreciate a big man, don’t you find?”
Louise shakes her head. “Kathy . . . Kathy . . . Kathy.”