“And you said you didn’t want to do so on the floor, and were waiting for a couch.”
“Why yes,” I said.
Susan smiled again. Not the smile of approval, which thrilled me, but the smile of promise which could easily launch a thousand ships.
“I believe I see a pattern emerging,” I said.
“You’re a trained observer,” Susan said. “Do you mind making love after you’ve eaten?”
“After, before, during, instead of – whatever the schedule calls for.”
Susan got up and went to my door and locked it. Then she took off her raincoat and hung it on the coatrack. She took her hat off and put it on top of my file cabinet. She slipped her dress over her head, and hung it on a hanger on the rack, taking time to smooth out any wrinkles. She fluffed her hair carefully. Then she turned and smiled at me and finished undressing. She picked up the big hat and put it on.
“Shall we try the couch?” she said.
“With the hat on?” I said.
“Special effects,” Susan said.
“Works for me,” I said.
The hat was on the floor shortly after we began. The storm made the room sort of dim, except when the lightning made it brilliant. The rain was thick on the window. By the time we finished we were on the floor beside the hat.
“So much for the new couch,” I said.
Susan pressed her face into my neck as if her nose were cold.
“So much for KC Roth,” she said.
And we lay there with our arms around each other and laughed while the thunder and lightning frolicked with the rain outside.