Page 19 of Lucky Night

You sure? he asks.

Yes, she says. And she is. This is life in big buildings, in a big city. So she’s going to stop being a big baby, she’s going to drink more of this delicious fizzy water with bonus champagne flavor, and as soon as they’re given the all clear, they’ll—what was his phrase? Resume normal operations. He’s got such good phrases, all the witty words, he should be the writer not seriouslythat’swhere you’re going right now? There?

Knock it off.

He finds two bathrobes in a closet, pristine and impossibly soft, sleeves tucked into their tightly furled belts. They shed the clothing they’d managed to put on before the announcement, swaddle themselves in the robes and return to bed, sitting up side by side against the headboard.

She sips her champagne. What should we do now?

Nothing strenuous, he says. Maybe a little light fellatio?

Nick!

He grins at her. She bursts out laughing.

Jenny laughs!

She’s fine. Thank Christ.

They don’t have to leave.

I think it could do both of us some good, he says.

Both of us, huh?

He’d never seen her like that. Poor girl. Welling up—her tears, then his tenderness. A new feeling, wanting to protect her. So he got on the horn, asking for an explanation, a timeline. Stern, but not yelling. Not even close. He yells at work. Acts the Big Boss. Partnerman. People must think he’s overcompensating, he’s wearing a mink thong and being regularly pissed on by a dominatrix in a Hell’s Kitchen dungeon or something, but no, sorry, he’s not that interesting. He’s just a dickhead lawyer.

Why not? he says. You love doingit.

She laughs again. Look at her! Totally at ease, she’s lost that hunted look. Now all he needs to do is keep her amused until those clowns downstairs get their shit together.

Love? she repeats. Let me tell you something. No woman on earth loves giving blow jobs.

No woman, he says. Not a single woman, in the history of human copulation, has ever been aroused by sucking a man’s dick.

Correct, she says.

Why did he go hunting for robes? She’s bundled up when he needs her naked. Even if he can’t touch her. Yet. It kills him whenshe’s so definite—correct,with that prim little smile, and earlier, her forcefulWe need to leave, Nick. He wanted to toss her onto the bed and—

But he restrained himself. He’s not a monster, he wouldn’t dream of trying to fuck her fears away.

Okay, he might dream of it, but he would never do it. Unless she was game.

Is she game? Might she…

No. It’s too soon.

Give her time.

He would have gone downstairs if she’d insisted. He never would have made her leave the room alone. It’s bad enough watching her go at the end of an ordinary evening. To have it happen tonight, after all his planning and anticipation, would have felt…

Never mind. Because it didn’t happen.

Still, she was spooked. He would have only made it worse if he’d shared a small correction the desk clerk had made. The alarm wasn’t triggered on the fifth floor, as the fire safety director had announced, but on the fifteenth. Which is nothing. Completely irrelevant, as far as they’re concerned. But telling Jenny would have complicated things, when it doesn’t matter. They’re still so far away.

From nothing. That’s the main point. There’s nothing down there.

So. Back to blow jobs.

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