They make love the night before and in the morning, while he’s looking at her from behind dressing, he gets excited and starts kissing her and she says “Why not?” and they do it. Then they dress, have breakfast, he says he’ll call her, and that afternoon someone knocks on the door. It’s Chantai, a French au pair girl for friends across the street. “How’d you get in downstairs?” and she says “The door was not locked. I thought it the best way since I heard you tell your lobby bell never works.” “Phone, that’s how people get me if they want me to come downstairs to unlock the door for them or just for me to come down to go outside. But fine, glad to see you, how are you, what’s new, like a cup of coffee?” “Wine if you have; it’s my afternoon off from Timothy. It’s a very nice place you have here, very poor, very artistic, but I bet you hate when people tell you that.” She sits on the bed, which is also his couch, reaches over to the night table or side table for a magazine or book, thumbs through the magazine, “This one we don’t have in French—no fun for no advertisements,” drinks her wine, eats the crackers and cheese and apple slices he puts on a plate for her, yawns, puts the glass down, her arms up, he thinks for him because of the way she smiles at him now and he says “Tell me, and if I’m being off-base, tell me that too—” “What is this ‘off-base’? I love your expressions; all of New York’s.” “Off-base, is off-base. I’m very bad at definitions, I just know words. ‘Improper’? ‘Not good behavior’? So I hope I’m not being that way, but did you come here to make love?” “I never did it with you, isn’t that right? I know I kissed you once, but I could be wrong in that too.” “In the Jankwitz’s kitchen. I went to the fridge for a beer and you were there and we talked about wine, I think, and I don’t know, I kissed you or we just kissed.” “And we didn’t make love? Why do I think we could have made that? Sometimes I get so wiped I don’t know what I before that did.” “No, we didn’t. I know I thought of asking you out but didn’t know how to go about it, since you worked for my friends.” “You telephone me there and say would I mind to go to a museum. Do you want to start making love now? Thing is, I only have an hour more and I could use it to take off pressure from work with Timothy all day, and because I would want to with you.” While they’re making love she says “You smell like you have another woman on you or else you wear perfume. But a woman’s, not a man’s. I know those things.” “I don’t have either on me. I don’t know what it could be, since I don’t use aftershave lotion either and I’m afraid I haven’t even shaved yet today.” “That’s OK. But you should always wash if you make love with one woman and then another.” “All right; a woman slept the night here. Then you came by, I’m glad you did but didn’t know you would, so I didn’t have time to wash.” “You could have done so in the bathroom while I took off my clothes here. Or in the kitchen when I went to the bathroom to put in my disc.” “What’s the difference. We’re doing it already. But if it makes you happy…” “I’m happy with you, yes, very, but I’d be more happy if you would wash. Else, it would interfere in my mind and I don’t want that now. I want all the pressure off. I will say that the perfume’s nice but not the smell, so this woman must have good taste.” “Touché,” he says. She doesn’t smile. “Hey, that’s French. Maybe that’s not a language you understand.” “That’s silly. It doesn’t make you attractive. Go.” He goes, washes his whole body with a washrag, the genitals and face a second time, comes back and they finish making love. “I still have most of an hour and I can be fifteen minutes late,” she says. “Want to go to the park to walk, or have a demitasse on the street?” “Next time. I have to get some work done now.” She leaves and he goes back to work. At around six he thinks he’d like to make love to three women in one day. He’s never done that. Two’s the most, which he’s done a couple of times. He calls some women he’s slept with. One says “You’re horny, right?” “No, honestly, why do you say that?” “You only call when you’re horny. I don’t mind when I feel that way also, with you or anyone else I’ve had sex with, or even when the call suddenly springs that feeling on me, but not tonight.” “I only want to go to a movie. What happens after, if anything else like that does—” but she says she’s in a hurry and hangs up. Another woman says she’d love to meet him but she’s busy with something. “Tomorrow?” “Tomorrow I’m tied up; make it tonight.” “I’m free the day after tomorrow,” she says. “I’m not sure what I’ll be doing then. I know I wrote something down about it, an appointment of some kind but I forget what time. Let me get back to you.” “That’s not nice. Why’d you call if you really don’t want to make plans?” One doesn’t answer; another has an answering machine. He says “If you get in before nine or ten and want to meet, call me. I could cab down or you could cab here and I’ll reimburse you for the fare. Or we can meet at a bar near you. But call. It’s Thursday, October 16th, by the way.” Then he remembers someone he met at a book party a few weeks ago. He wasn’t attracted to her but she was to him. Started a conversation with him, gave him her number though he didn’t ask for it. “In case you want to phone me. I’d be interested.” “Thanks, I will,” but didn’t think he would. He forgets where he put the number, remembers her last name, looks up several spellings of it in the phone book and calls and she says she’s busy tonight. He says “What about after if it’s not too late?” “I might be able to get free. It’s only dinner, and he’s not someone I’m especially involved with; more like just a good friend who’d probably even understand.” “Can you meet me by nine-thirty, ten?” “I think I can,” and gives him the name and location of a bar in her neighborhood. She calls when he’s getting ready to go and says “I’m glad I caught you. I won’t be free till around twelve or so, will that be too late for you?” “Too late. If I wait around I’ll probably feel like going to sleep by then. Sure you can’t make it sooner? I was already showered and dressed and set to leave.” “That’s almost the earliest. We only had a snack instead of dinner and then went to a play. That’s where I’m calling from. And after it he says we have a little dinner party to go to and then there’s the getting rid of him, since I think he now thinks he’s more than just a friend.” “Skip the party. Get a headache or say you’ve work to do tomorrow. I don’t know what kind since I don’t know what you do, but it’s got to be something.” “I told you at that party. I’m a book designer. The one in fact you went to the party for.” “Great. There’s plenty of work to be done there. And then let’s say we meet at your place at eleven.” “That’s cutting it pretty tight, since I might not get a taxi so fast, but I’ll try to make it. I’ll say the play’s longer than I expected, even if I’m not sure how long it’ll be. There’s another act but it has twice as many scenes. Maybe we should meet this weekend. I actually do have to be at work around ten tomorrow.” “No, we started it for tonight, let’s keep it. Eleven-fifteen, we’ll say. And I don’t have to stay long. We’re just meeting.” He’s at her building at eleven, thinking maybe she got home earlier than she thought she could. Rings her bell, no answer. Then stands in front of her building, feels conspicuous waiting there so walks around the block and rings her bell again. No answer. Waits outside, thinks maybe she came back when he was walking around the block but was in the shower just before and didn’t hear him ringing. Rings her bell, no answer. Walks around her block, a cab’s pulling up just as he steps down into her vestibule to ring again. She and a man are in it. It’s almost 11:40. She gets out. What if the man does? He’ll leave the building and continue walking and then look from a little distance away to see if the man goes in with her or the cab’s still there, and if she stops him stepping out or on the street he could say “Elizabeth, what a surprise. I was seeing a friend of mine—thought this was his building but it must be the next—but is this where you live?” Not that but something. Man doesn’t get out. She blows him a kiss from the sidewalk, cab speeds off and she runs into the vestibule. “Hi,” he says and she jumps; “You scared the hell out of me.” “Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you, but didn’t know ho
w to alert you,” and puts his hands on her shoulders and kisses her. “Gee, boy, what is it with you?—I don’t even know you,” and laughs. “Let’s go up quick,” he says. “Sure, you’re in a hurry for something?” “You.” “Oh my, what passion. What is this, a race for the fastest conquest?” “Nothing like that. Just that I’m also eager to get into your apartment. I got here early; it’s cold down here and waiting on the street.” They go upstairs. Once in she says “Like a drink, anything to eat?” and he says “No, let’s just go to bed, do you mind?” “Wait, we got time, and I’d like a glass of wine and something to nibble on—I’m hungry, what with only an early snack.” “No, really, later, bed now, do what the doctor says, please?” and she says “That could be funny; what do you mean? Oh, all right, give me a moment,” and he says “Only a moment, if it’s to put something in or to pee.” “Those are it, but kiss me again, will you?” and he does, hard, tongue squishing around in her mouth and she says “Mm, mm, I like,” holds up a finger to mean one minute, he supposes, and ducks into the bathroom. He looks at his watch. 11:53. Her clock. 11:51. He gets undressed, down to his undershorts, rubs his penis through the shorts till it’s hard, sticks his hand down and starts jerking it, stops when he hears the bathroom door open, she comes out, “That clock right?” and she says “It’s electric, I set it by some radio program time, why?” and he says “Nothing, just that my watch is all off,” takes her hand, she says “Bedroom’s down there,” he says “Let’s do it right now on the couch,” and takes off her blouse, “Help me out with this,” he says, trying to unhook her bra from behind and she says “You know, I don’t know if I like this. It might be getting late but you’re making me miffed with your rush, whatever-your-name-is,” and he fakes a laugh, says “Sorry,” starts kissing her, she him, gets her bra off, skirt up, panties down, his shorts off, both of them on the couch, rubs her down there for about thirty seconds and then sticks it in, looks at the clock when her eyes are closed and head’s the other way, 11:55, then the last numeral changes to six, pumps harder, she says “Hold it, I’m not even halfway into it yet,” comes. “Oh, that was bundles of fun,” she says, “bundles—for you. Next time don’t forget someone might be doing it with you, maybe even a human being.” “I was overexcited, what can I say?” Looks at his watch. “I should have taken this off. I could have scratched you with it and it somehow shouldn’t be on someone when he or she’s making love.” 11:59. Minus the two from her clock and it’s 11:57, at the most fifty-eight. Later in bed with the lights out she tucks up behind him and rubs his penis but he knows he won’t be able to do it so says “Huh, wha?” and pretends to be asleep. When he wakes up early the next morning he thinks maybe he should tell her why he was in such a rush last night. She’s got a good sense of humor, a nice disposition, so she might even look at it as a big laugh. Anyway, he doesn’t feel good about the deception and she might even suspect something, so out in the open like that she’d be hurt less. If she gets mad, hell with her then. Won’t be any great loss if he doesn’t see her again, and he was being honest with her, so what does she want? He could be a fool, he could say, no less than just about anyone, and if she can’t accept that, he’s sorry but OK. Then his hand, pulling it out from under his leg, lands on her thigh and he strokes it and then glides it along the curve of her behind, starts to get excited and thinks he’s never done it four times in twenty-four hours with any one or two women, at least as far as he can remember. Tries to remember. No, never, three times at the most, which he’s done with two or three women individually and probably with a couple of women too, one in the morning, another the same evening, but not for a few years. If he’d done it four times in twenty-four hours he’d know—it’d stand out. So he starts fondling her breasts, she seems asleep but then seems to awake, plays with her down there, she grabs his penis, turns over to him, says “Let’s just go slowly this time, OK with you?” and he says “Fine,” since he has almost two hours before the twenty-four are up, “any way and as much time as you want.”
He’s in the cottage typing in their bedroom upstairs, wife out for a run, daughter’s downstairs with the new farm set they got her the other day, when a screen door slams, sounds like the one to the porch and he yells “Olivia, what are you doing?” no response, “Olivia, Olivia, you hear me?” nothing, runs downstairs, she’s not in the living room, looks out the back windows, not on the porch or the path going down to the water, runs out the other living room door to the front of the house, not there or on the road going up to the town road, runs around the side of the house and looks underneath it, runs around the other side, yells “Olivia, where are you, answer Daddy now,” runs up to the porch, looks around from it, runs into the house, upstairs, not there, looks out the windows, yells out one of the bedroom windows “Olivia, Olivia, do you hear Daddy? come right back to the house,” listens, runs downstairs, kitchen, out the back way and down the path to the water, stops in front of the boathouse and yells “Olivia, where are you? it’s Daddy, yell you’re OK,” waits, no response, no sounds, runs through the boathouse, looks on the beach, nobody on it, no boats in the water, shouts “Olivia, it’s Daddy, are you on the beach somewhere? answer me,” runs up the path along the creek to the house, shouts for her, then yells “Denise, where are you? stop your run, come back quick, Olivia’s missing, Olivia’s lost; Denise, it’s Howard, I need you to help me find Olivia,” runs back into the house the back way, upstairs, under the bed, behind the clothes on the clothes line, looks out the windows, under her bed in their room, downstairs, bathroom, shower stall, guest room off the porch, back inside the house, behind the couch, where else hasn’t he looked? outside the front way, up to the woodshed on the left, around it, in the woods all around the house, calling for her, runs up their road to the town road a quarter mile away, from the town road shouts for Denise and then her, runs back, stops to stare at all the trees past the field, the big boulders and uprooted trees in the field, runs the rest of the way to the house, upstairs to look around and out the windows, downstairs, guest room, under the house, down to the water, runs a little way along the beach both ways, back to the house shouting for her and Denise as he runs, inside, outside, woodshed, cups his hands and yells loud as he can “Olivia, Olivia, yell for Daddy, yell the word Daddy, yell for me, sweetheart, yell, yell, yell everything’s OK,” listens, “Denise, come quick, Olivia’s not here, I can’t find her, help me to, help me,” bangs his head with his fists, screams “O-liv-i-a,” runs to the back of the house, that’s where he’s almost sure he first heard her go out, wonders where to look next, what to do next, it’ll start to get dark in a couple of hours, maybe hour and a half, he should call the town clerk, the sheriff’s office, the town fire department, they’ll know what to do, in minutes they could have dozens of searchers here, but one more run, down to the water, stands in front of the boathouse and looks up and down the beach, runs right up to the water and looks back at the beach and bushes and trees, runs up the main path, around the house and little way up the road, stops, shouts her name, yells for her to yell she’s here, if she’s in trouble yell help, “Yell anything you want, Olivia, anything, but yell, yell,” listens, bird sounds, wind in the trees, car from somewhere far off, chain saw even farther away, crickets or some insects, runs farther up the road, sees her walking toward the town road about ten feet from her, he’s about a hundred feet away, should he shout? will she know to stop if he doesn’t shout? should he run up without shouting and grab her? she might step onto the town road before he gets there, shout and he might scare her onto the road when she was going to stop at the edge of it, he shouts “Olivia, stop. Olivia, stop. Don’t move another step.” She stops about a foot from the road, turns around and leans her head and body forward as if trying to make out who it is. “It’s Daddy, my sweetheart, stay right there. Don’t move. Don’t do anything, just stand still. Wait till Daddy gets there. In fact, come to me, my darling. Come to me now.” She stays there, still looking at him. What the hell’s wrong? Why’s
she doing that? Car shoots past. She turns to it, watches it heading to the point. “Olivia,” he yells, walking to her. Don’t run or she might get scared she did something wrong and run onto the road. “Olivia, look at Daddy.” She turns to him. “Don’t move, sweetheart, stay right there. Just stay there on that spot and don’t move.” Continues walking to her. Van goes past the other way heading to town. She looks at it, turns to him. He continues walking at a normal pace. “Come to me, sweetheart, Daddy wants to give you something.” She doesn’t move. He’s close enough now to see her face seems scared of him or he doesn’t know what. “Anything wrong, sweetheart? Come to Daddy and tell him,” holding his arms out as he walks. Gets about twenty feet from her, smiling so she thinks he’s in a good mood. She just stares. Rattling sounds coming from the point, which she turns to. Car shoots past pulling an empty boat trailer. He walks fast while she’s looking at it, grabs her hand and pulls her down their road a few feet, puts his arms around her and hugs her, then backs up, holds out her hand with one hand and slaps it hard with the other. She starts bawling. He continues holding her with one hand and says “You scared the hell out of me. I slapped you that hard so you’ll remember never to run away like that again. Do you hear me?” She’s crying. “Do you hear what I’m saying?” Still crying, eyes shut tight. “You hear me. I don’t like hitting you but I did it for your own sake. I thought you were lost, that I’d never find you, do you know what that means?” but she’s still crying and he says “OK, but I’m not going to pamper you, it’s too important that you remember the bad you did,” and starts pulling her down the road by her hand, she falls to the ground, intentionally or because she stumbled, and he says “Come on, get up, get up,” and drags her a couple of feet and then picks her up, she’s still crying and puts her head on his shoulder and he lifts it up so she won’t think she can be comforted now, but has to keep holding it up and then says “Oh screw it, you’re smart, you heard and understood everything I said, just please, sweetheart, never run away like that again,” and lets her rest her head, kisses her cheek several times while she’s sobbing, and walks back to the house.
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